


Ugly Meanings in Beautiful Things

by LourdesDeath



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Catholicism, Child Abuse, Depression, F/F, Fluff, Homophobia, Hostage Situations, Ken is honestly the worst boyfriend, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently), Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Torture, Vivisection, Wendimoor, Whump, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-23 13:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 26,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16159862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LourdesDeath/pseuds/LourdesDeath
Summary: A series of promptfics for Whumptober





	1. Stabbed

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the preface from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
> 
> Day 1 - Stabbed: Friedkin contemplates after Dirk and Mona have taken The Boy through the portal to Wendimoor.  
> Day 2 - Bloody Hands: Todd tries to escape from Blackwing after he and Dirk have been captured.  
> Day 3 - Insomnia: Farah is having trouble sleeping.  
> Day 4 - "No, stop!": Todd is questioned by Blackwing.  
> Day 5 - Poisoned: Priest is poisoned. Clothes stay on.  
> Day 6 - Betrayed: Svlad begins to understand the truth about Colonel Riggins.  
> Day 7 - Kidnapped: The Bergsberg Sheriff's department staff is missing.  
> Day 8 - Fever: Tina is sick.  
> Day 9 - Stranded: Bart's car breaks down.  
> Day 10 - Bruises: Team Jacket goes to Bergsberg after a fight.  
> Day 11 - Hypothermia: Project Incubus is cold.  
> Day 12 - Electrocution: Todd, Dirk, and Farah talk about their experiences with electrocution.  
> Day 13 - "Stay": Todd has an attack during the night.  
> Day 14 - Torture: Project Icarus undergoes surgery.  
> Day 15 - Manhandling: The story of Beast's capture.  
> Day 16 - Bedridden: Todd can't bring himself to get out of bed.  
> Day 17 - Drugged: Bart and Mr. Priest have a tea party.  
> Day 18 - Hostage: Svlad can't find his parents.  
> Day 19 - Exhaustion: Farah's had a long and tiring day.  
> Day 20 - Concussion: Todd hits his head. Because he is a disaster.  
> Day 21 - Harsh Climate: Svlad is given a test.  
> Day 22 - Friendly Fire: Priest deals with a hostile project.  
> Day 23 - Self-Sacrifice: Amanda worries about her boys.  
> Day 24 - Drowning: Todd and Dirk attend a Catholic mass.  
> Day 25 - Restraints: Colonel Riggins observes a new project.  
> Day 26 - Broken Ribs: Project Incubus waits for Martin to return.  
> Day 27 - "I Can't Walk": Todd and Dirk are rescued.  
> Day 28 - Severe Illness: Silas has fallen ill.  
> Day 29 - Seizure: Project Lamia makes a new friend.  
> Day 30 - Caregiver: Arnold said it would all just be a bad dream, but it wasn't.  
> Day 31 - Showdown: The agency gets an unexpected visit.

Hugo is struggling to breathe. Dirk already fell into the portal thing, taking Moloch and Lamia-- _ Mona _ \--with him. 

It's over. They're safe from Blackwing, from Ken, from Hugo himself. He knows that he failed, and that he'll be removed from leadership of the program, but maybe he can explain everything and make them stop trying to control the psychics. 

It feels like he's drowning. He coughs and tastes blood. He looks down into the portal thing, hoping Dirk got to the other side alright. 

There are footsteps behind him, and Hugo realizes Ken is still in the room. He isn't happy--that's obvious even to Hugo. He waits for Ken to shoot him, or at least to call him an idiot, but instead he feels pressure on his side, and his body starts to fall, unable to hold him up any longer, and he hears wind rushing around him until he doesn't hear anything anymore. 


	2. Bloody Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd tries to escape from Blackwing after he and Dirk have been captured.

Todd’s given up on trying to get his hands out of the cuffs. He’s been trying for… 

It takes him a moment to think about how much time has passed. He was unconscious when they got here, and woke up alone in a room, cuffed to a chair. Dirk was here when he woke up, but Priest took him.

It must have been a few hours ago by now. 

The door opens, and Todd holds still, hoping they don’t realize he was trying to escape. 

A man walks in. Todd is still horrified by the man’s face--even Dirk was confused about the scar that bisects it, although Priest had punched him for asking before taking him away. Todd wants to ask what they’ve done to Dirk, but he sees the man’s hands and the words leave his lips. 

Priest’s hands are dripping with blood. Some of it is obviously fresh, but some of it is dark, dry. He steps towards Todd, smiling. 

Todd feels the chair against his back as he presses himself into it, trying to get away from the man even while he’s unable to move. 

A hand touches his cheek. He feels how wet it is, can almost taste metal from the smell. 

“Worried about your little boyfriend?” Priest asks. 

He nods, terror stopping him from speaking. 

“Don’t worry. Icarus can’t die, we tested that years ago. Could probably cut his heart out and he’d survive.”  

Priest leans closer, and for a moment Todd fears the man will try to kiss him, but he doesn’t, just gets close enough to whisper into Todd’s ear. 

“Now you, on the other hand, are a different story.” 


	3. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farah is having trouble sleeping

Tina is woken up by muttering beside her. She opens her eyes and can see well enough that she knows Farah's lamp is on its dimmest setting before she even rolls over. 

“Need to call him, but I can't do that until we've contacted the construction company and verified, except we aren't even sure if that's the right location. Why hasn't Dirk--”

“Babe?” Tina says, and Farah goes quiet, looking over at her like she hasn't seen Tina moving. It's never a good sign when she's too anxious to pay attention to her surroundings. “What's wrong?”

Farah smiles, but it's too bright to be genuine. “I’m fine! Just getting some planning done, working on planning.” 

“Faaaraaahh,” Tina whines. “What’s wrong? You wouldn’t be working at…” She looks around before she remembers that there aren’t any clocks in the room because Farah gets stressed by them. “...Whatever time it is if you were fine.” Tina scootches up so she’s sitting against the headboard bed and leans over so she can wrap her arms around Farah’s shoulders, but she feels Farah tense, so she lets go, putting her hand palm-up on the bed so Farah can have contact if she wants. “C’mon. Tell me what’s up? Please?” 

Farah sighs, one of her hands moving to hold Tina’s. “I don’t know. I just feel worried and thought working would help.” 

“And did it?” 

“...No.” 

Tina looks at the papers splayed across Farah’s lap. Most of it is stuff for the agency, but one stack is of bills and another just looks like random pieces of paper. 

“Anything I can help with?” 

“I don’t know how you can help,” Farah replies.

Frowning, Tina leans in to press a kiss to Farah’s cheek. She would call Hobbs if she could--Hobbs always knows how to help--but it’s the middle of the night for them and he’s an hour ahead of them in Montana, and she doesn’t want to wake him up if she can avoid it. 

“Any of this urgent?” 

“One of the bills is due in a week, and we have a client coming in for a meeting in two days.” 

“...So, none of it is urgent.” 

Farah makes a face at her--they clearly have different definitions of “urgent”. 

“We can do something to get your energy out?” Tina suggests. 

“But you need to sleep.” 

“I’m on vacation, and it’s not like I’m driving home tomorrow.” 

Farah looks away, and Tina knows she’s having a mental debate. After a moment, Farah nods. 

“What should we do?” 

“Well, you could work out? And I can watch and take in the gorgeous sight of your glistening muscles.” She pauses as Farah laughs, pushing her gently. “And then I can make pancakes for both of us, and after that we can come back in here and I’ll kiss you until you fall asleep. How’s that sound?”

Farah kisses her, almost pulling Tina onto her lap. Tina arches into her, her arms instinctively wrapping around the other woman. 

“That sounds great,” Farah says against her lips. 

\--

Tina wakes up to Farah half on top of her, an arm and a leg keeping her in place as Farah uses her chest as a pillow. She still doesn’t know what time it is, but it’s brighter than when they went back to sleep. 

She rubs a hand down Farah’s back and kisses her forehead, happiness blooming inside her. 


	4. "No, stop!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd is questioned by Blackwing

Todd wakes up when someone punches him, his arms jerking uselessly as he tries to defend himself. When he opens his eyes, he sees that he's tied to a chair. Priest is smiling down at him. 

“Good morning,” the man says. 

Todd looks around and sees Dirk huddled in a corner, he's not restrained as far as Todd can tell. 

“What the fuck is going on?” he asks. 

“I'd like you to tell us where your sister is,” someone says. Priest steps back to reveal the Bart guy, Ken. Dirk told him about how Ken had tried to stop him and Mona from getting the boy back to Wendimoor. 

He can't believe someone who has spent time with a Holistic would work for Blackwing. 

“Why the hell would I tell you anyth--”

“Todd,” Dirk interrupts. “Please, don't fight with them.” His eyes are wide with fear, and he's holding his wrist to his chest like it's injured. 

“Did they hurt you?” Todd asks him. 

“I believe Supervisor Adams asked you a question,” Priest drawls. 

Dirk goes silent, and stares at the ground. 

Todd looks back at the other two men. “I don't know where she is,” he says. “She doesn't tell me.”

“Wrong answer.”

Priest walks over to Dirk and grabs him by his hair, throwing him backwards onto the floor. Dirk doesn't fight, just collapses, his head hitting the concrete with a crack. 

“Sorry, Svladdy,” Priest says, Dirk visibly flinching at the nickname. “Your boyfriend ain't helping us, so you have to suffer.” He pulls a knife from his belt, and traces it down Dirk’s cheek. “Maybe he’ll be more willing to help after we’ve cut off a few of your fingers.” 

Dirk watches the knife trail down his body, his eyes wide with fear. Todd can see how he tenses when the knife touches his hand. 

“No, stop!” Todd shouts before Priest can even draw blood from Dirk. “She… she sent me a picture a few days ago. I… I don’t know where it was exactly but it they were… it was some ghost town in a desert or something. Maybe you could figure it out from that.” 

Priest pauses and glances at Ken, who pulls Todd’s phone from his pocket, and clicks through it. Todd doesn’t want to know how Ken figured out his password so easily. 

“We’ll have to do a reverse image search, see if we can find this,” he says. “But they’re probably long gone by now.” 

Todd thinks that Priest is going to leave Dirk alone, but he slashes the knife over Dirk’s fingers before he sheathes it, causing Dirk to yelp before he curls on his side, cradling his arm to his chest. 

“Don’t worry, Svladdy,” he laughs. “I’ll be back soon enough, and we can have some playtime.” 

With that, he follows Ken from the room, the door slamming behind him. 


	5. Poisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priest is poisoned. Clothes stay on.

“It shouldn’t be lethal,” Ken says, reading statistics from his laptop.

“Fuck lethality,” Priest growls. “This fucking hurts!” 

He’s writhing on his bed, clutching at the sheets. 

Ken clicks over to a separate window. “Does it hurt in the injection site or somewhere else?” 

Priest makes a wordless noise, fighting against the cuffs that are keeping him in place. 

“I asked you a question, Mr. Priest,” Ken says, glancing down at him. When Priest doesn't answer, he continues. “I'm testing it on you because you are the only Blackwing subject to whom I have access and who I know won't kill me. Now, if you aren't willing to answer me, I'm happy to up the dosage.”

He reaches for the dial, but Priest speaks before he has to follow through with his threat. 

“It’s worst at the injection site,” he says. “But I feel it everywhere.” 

Ken types out his answer. “Describe the pain for me.” 

“It feels like my veins are burnin’.” 

After Ken has transcribed the response, he reaches over, cupping Priest’s cheek with one hand so the man will look at him. 

Priest stops moving, just watches him as he pants. Ken’s thumb brushes his bottom lip, and Priest opens his mouth further so he can suck on the digit. 

Ken pulls his hand away after a moment. “Your eyes are dilated,” he says. “But I suppose that’s to be expected.” 

Priest goes back to clawing at his sheets. “Fuck you, Ken.” 

“If you’d like, after we’re done here.” 

“If you’re tryin’ to see what effect arousal has on this, you’re going in the right direction.” 

Ken rolls his eyes. “I doubt any other subject would be capable of arousal during this,” he says, but he reaches over and presses a hand to Priest’s crotch, feeling the soft fabric of the man’s sweatpants and, underneath them, his soft cock. 

“It ain’t happenin’ right now, baby,” Priest groans. 

He ignores Priest and trails his hand up the man’s body until it’s on his chest, and leans in to kiss him. Priest gasps and strains to be closer, suckling on Ken’s bottom lip. There’s a clinking noise, and Ken looks out of the corner of his eye to see Priest has started to fight the restraints again. 

Ken presses his tongue into Priest’s mouth, feeling him yield immediately. 

“Please, baby. Please,” Priest whimpers against his lips, seeming unsure himself of whether he’s asking for more pleasure or less pain. 

He whines when Ken pulls away, still pulling at the cuffs. 

“Is the pain better or worse now?” Ken asks. 

“Worse.” 

Ken shrugs and records that as well. 

Priest shakes his head. “You better keep your word about fucking later or I’ll give you to Bart myself,” he says. 


	6. Betrayed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Svlad begins to understand the truth about Colonel Riggins.

“Please, he hurt her,” Svlad says. “She was so scared she could hardly keep a single form.”

Colonel Riggins looks at him impassively. “Svlad--”

“Sir,” Svlad interrupts him, knowing he might not get food tomorrow for misbehaving. “I know the testing is important. You can… you can do twice as much testing on me. I’ll do my best! But please let Mona rest for a little while and… and stop Mr. Priest from hurting her again.” 

He stands as straight as he can, trying to stay strong while the Colonel considers his response. Double testing sounds horrible, but he’ll take it if it means protecting Mona from Mr. Priest. 

“You won’t misbehave or complain about the testing?” Colonel Riggins asks. 

Svlad shakes his head. “I promise!” 

“Fine. She won’t be tested for the next two weeks. But if you break your promise, both of you will do double testing.” 

Nodding, Svlad waits to be dismissed and, when he is, he walks slowly back to his room, trying not to smile to himself. Mona is safe, and Mr. Priest won’t scare her again. 

\-- 

Svlad collapses on his bed, and counts the days since his conversation with the Colonel. 

“Three days to go,” he whispers to himself. 

The testing has been worse than ever, starting early in the morning and ending late at night, or even later. He’s spent the last two days in non-stop testing, and has managed to keep his mouth shut about how difficult it is and how much he hates it even if he can only just manage to keep up.

He hasn’t seen Mr. Priest since he spoke to the Colonel, but he hopes the man had to leave, a tiny part of him dreaming of Mr. Priest going and never coming back. 

Svlad has nearly fallen asleep when he feels something touching his nose. He opens his eyes and finds a mouse on his pillow. He blinks at it, and it blinks back. After a moment, it touches its nose to his. 

“Mona?” he asks, and the mouse nods. 

Svlad pulls the blankets over his head and Mona changes into a small girl. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in to visit you, but the Colonel said--” he stops when his eyes adjust to the dark and he sees that her eyes are damp with tears. “Mona, what--” He pulls her into a hug. “What happened?” 

Mona squirms away from him. 

“Mr. Priest…” she whispers. 

“Colonel Riggins said he wouldn’t hurt you again--” 

“Svlad!” she says, and claps her hands over her mouth. Svlad sees that there are dark bruises on her wrists and arms. 

“He… He hurt you again.” 

“I’ve been doing testing every day and Mr.--” She whimpers, too scared to even say Mr. Priest’s name. “He was there every time.” 

“But… but the Colonel said--” 

She shakes her head. 

Svlad’s chest aches. Colonel Riggins is in charge, he  _ knows  _ that, knows that Mr. Priest has to listen to what the Colonel says, and if he’s still hurting Mona… 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, reaching out for her more slowly than before. 

This time, Mona cuddles up against him, burying her face in his chest. Her shoulders shake as she clings to him, crying silently. 

He wanted to believe that he could trust the Colonel, but a thousand hurts, tortures, fears rush back to him. The Colonel would have approved everything done to him, everything done to Mona. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, wondering how many other lies have been told to him. 

Svlad feels sick with understanding, knowing that the Colonel, a man he thought cared for him, was just as much a monster as Mr. Priest. 

He would stay there, holding Mona as she cries and holding his own tears back, but then the room shakes with the sound of an explosion and they’re running off into the night as they escape. 


	7. Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bergsberg Sheriff's department staff is missing.

The police station is empty when they arrive. Dirk makes sure of this, opening every door, searching under the desks, and even looking through drawers. 

Todd and Farah watch him while he looks.

“What’s going on, Dirk?” Todd asks when Dirk has started checking the filing cabinets. 

“Something terrible. A kidnapping.” 

“How do you know there was a kidnapping?” 

“I was sent a picture as proof.” He’s opening the coffee pot now, and Todd is fairly certain that Dirk is making sure that Hobbs hasn’t been stuffed into it. 

“Were there any demands? Do they want a ransom or for us to solve a case…?” 

“Nothing. Just the photo.” Dirk grabs Hobbs’ rubber band ball and holds it to his ear like he expects it to give him answers. When it doesn’t he sighs and sets it back in its spot on the desk before sighing again and sitting in the nearest chair. “What if they’re hurt? What if… Do you think this was Blackwing?” he asks them. 

Farah and Todd exchange a glance before they each grab a chair and sit in front of him. 

“Let’s review what we know,” Farah says. “Then we can see if there are any obvious clues.” 

Dirk makes a face at the word “clues” but nods after a moment. 

“So, you got a picture?” Todd asks. 

“Yes.” 

“...That told you they’d been kidnapped.” 

“Yes.” 

“How did you get the picture?” Farah is clearly doing her best to stay calm for Dirk’s sake, but Todd wonders how long she’ll be able to keep it up.

“It was a text.” 

“Can we see it?” 

Dirk nods and pulls out his phone. He pokes at the screen before handing it to Farah. 

Her eyes go wide and she takes a deep breath. “Dirk… This is… This is the picture?”

“Have you figured it out already?” Dirk’s voice is both relieved and defeated. 

“What is it?” Todd says, worried. 

Farah closes her eyes and hands him the phone. 

Taking it, Todd looks at the picture. 

It’s Hobbs’ cat, curled up in a small pet crate and looking surly. 

“They clearly took Hobbs, Tina,  _ and  _ Mustard,” Dirk says. 

Farah and Todd look at each other again.

“Have you tried calling Hobbs?” Todd asks. 

“Of course not. They’re not just going to let him  _ keep  _ his phone after he’s been kidnapped.” 

Farah sighs and pulls her phone out. After unlocking it, she calls Tina, putting the call on speaker. 

“Hey, babe,” Tina says as she answers it. 

“Tina!” Dirk replies, grabbing the phone from Farah’s hand. “Are you alright? What happened?” 

“Uhh. What do you mean what happened?” 

“I got Hobbs’ text and--”

“We’re at the station,” Farah says, cutting Dirk off. “Where are you two?” 

“Oh, sorry. Hobbs had to take Mustard in for a checkup and likes to sit in the back seat with her so she doesn’t get upset ‘cause it’s such a long drive to the vet, so I drove them there. What’d you think happened?”

Dirk looks at the ground, and Todd doesn’t think he’s imagining the blush on Dirk’s face. 

“He thought you guys had been kidnapped,” he replies. 

“Kidnapped!?” Tina says, laughing. “That would be awesome, but nah! We’re just in Coaldale. We should be back in a couple hours.” 

Farah continues to talk to Tina, accepting an offer from Hobbs to stay for dinner, and Todd leans closer to Dirk. 

“You okay?” 

Dirk takes a deep breath, nodding. “I just… I saw Mustard and she was in a cage, or I thought it was a cage and I just…” He wraps his arms around himself. “They’d put us in cages sometimes, for testing, and I just.. I thought…” 

Todd rests his hand on Dirk’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “I’d rather we think they’re in danger and find out they’re fine than have it the other way around.” 

He moves closer and pulls Dirk into a hug. 

Dirk clings to him. 

“Hey, I bet Hobbs has some ice cream here. Wanna ask if we can have some?” 

Dirk sighs. “Yes please.” 


	8. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina is sick.

It's taken a while for Farah to accept the fact that, even though they are very much in love, she and Tina are very different people. Tina likes late nights and waking up around noon, Farah likes being up at 7--if she wants to sleep in. 

But Tina still being asleep at 2pm is unusual. They both try to get their sleep schedules to meet in the middle when visiting one another, and she knows Tina was in bed before 3 in the morning. 

She checks in the bedroom, telling herself that her fears that Tina was kidnapped while she was answering emails in another room are ridiculous. 

Tina is definitely still in bed (Farah would know that sandy brown hair anywhere) and has buried herself under a pile of blankets and one pillow. 

Tina doesn't wake up when Farah sits down beside her, but when she gives the blanket mountain a gentle shake, a noise like a car engine failing to turn over replies. 

“Whaaaa?” Tina croaks. “I w's sleepin’”

“Do you have a cold?’’ Farah asks her. 

“Nuhh.”

Farah reaches over and pulls down some of the blankets, and Tina fails to worm back under the pile before she can press her hand to Tina’s forehead. 

“Yeah, you’ve got a fever. I’ll call Hobbs and let him know you won’t be in tonight.” 

“Muhhhh.”

“And I’m staying until you feel better.” 

Tina rolls over and wiggles until her arms are free from the blankets, and wraps around Farah with a whine. 

Farah holds her, running her fingers through her hair and undoing some of the worst knots she’s acquired during the night. 

Tina falls back asleep, one of her hands clinging to Farah’s shirt. Usually, Farah would want to do something productive, whether it was making sure Todd and Dirk aren’t burning the agency to the ground in her absence or researching cases or teaching Tina martial arts, but it’s nice to have quiet time, where she can hold the woman she loves, and eventually fall asleep herself. 


	9. Stranded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart's car breaks down.

The car stops, and Bart sits for a few minutes, waiting for it to start up again. 

It doesn’t, so she gets out of the car, looking for a nearby target. 

There aren’t any buildings around, and no cars drive past her, so she grabs the bag that was in the back seat of the car when she found it and continues in the direction she’d been driving. 

She digs through the bag as she walks and finds a gun and some food. She grabs a sweet thing that’s been squashed flat. It breaks apart as she opens the wrapping. A lot of it gets on her shirt while she eats, and some even falls onto the road, but it’s food. 

Bart thinks about Chinese food as she eats. Ken was right--it’s nice to eat sometimes. The Chinese food had tasted good. 

It was nice to have Ken around, to have someone to talk to. He’d had good ideas even if he got too many of them from rectangles. 

She's never really missed anyone before. When she left the place from before she didn't want to talk to anyone. No one really talked to her except Mr. Priest and Mr. Priest really only talked to her a little. Ken talked so much that it was almost overwhelming. 

“I'll just talk to myself,” she says, but that won't work. She isn't that good at talking, and she won't be able answer back. 

She looks up. It's dark out, and she can see stars in the sky. 

“What if I talk to you?” she says. 

The universe doesn't answer. It never does. 

“Well if you aren't gonna talk to me, I'm not gonna listen!” 

She keeps walking, hoping that it makes the universe feel bad. 

Eventually, she finds a bicycle lying on the side of the road. It's not really like the universe is talking to her, but it makes her feel a little less alone. 


	10. Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Jacket goes to Bergsberg after a fight.

“What the heck happened?” Tina asks. Farah had showed up at the station with Todd and Dirk. Todd and Dirk had a black eye each and Farah had a cut on her forehead. The boys were both hobbling a little, but Farah moved like she was perfectly fine. 

“Got into a fight with a gang of hypnotized numismatics?” Dirk says with a whimper. 

Farah sighs and reaches into her bag and pulls out a white, plastic bag. She squeezes it until there's a quiet pop and she hands it to Dirk. 

“Ice pack,” Farah explains when Dirk looks at it like it might try to bite him. 

Hobbs rushes into the station, the noise of him throwing open the door making Dirk and Todd jump. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, crouching in front of Dirk. 

Dirk nods, smiling. 

“And Mona? Is she alright?”

Dirk reaches into his pocket and pulls out the Panic Pete doll, which has blue and green spots on it. 

“She felt a little left out, since we're… More colorful than usual.”

Tina pulls Farah aside as Hobbs starts to fuss over Dirk, Todd, and Mona. 

“Are you alright?” she asks. 

“I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?”

Tina gives her a look. “I know you. You hate being hurt and you don't like people knowing when you are.” 

She tries to wrap her arms around Farah but the other woman freezes for a moment and Tina releases her. 

“Sorry,” Farah says. She hesitates, reaching out to hold Tina's hands. “They… They got me a few times.”

She pulls off her jacket, revealing a bruise on her shoulder. 

Tina leans in, and presses a kiss to the wound.  Farah shivers slightly at the touch. 

“Anywhere else?” Tina asks. 

Farah sighs. “Nowhere I can show you right now.” 

Tina runs the backs of her knuckles down Farah's cheek. 

“Then I'll kiss those later,” she promises. 

It's another few hours before they leave the station, Tina driving the short distance to her house. Once they've both had a shower and some food (Farah insists that ice cream doesn't count as a meal) Tina leads her to bed and makes good on her word, kissing every hurt on her love's body. She can't heal the wounds, but she hopes she eases some of the pain. 


	11. Hypothermia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Project Incubus is cold.

Martin tries to pull Vogel closer, Gripps and Cross pressing against him from the other two sides. There was only so much they could do for him--they all knew that--but they couldn’t let him suffer without doing everything they could to prevent it.

“F-Forty one degrees fahrenheit,” Gripps says, his teeth chattering around the words. 

Vogel is whimpering against Martin’s chest. “Why’s it so cold, guys?”

“Those bastards are--are testing us,” Cross answers. 

Vogel shifts, his hands balled into little firsts against Martin’s chest. Martin reaches between them and tries to undo the buttons near his abdomen, but his fingers are so cold he can barely feel the plastic. After a moment of fumbling, he gets the fabric open. 

“Might be a bit warmer there,” he tells Vogel, and the boy slips his hands into the hole in his jumpsuit. Martin gasps at the cold touch on his almost-not-frozen stomach, but doesn’t pull away. 

It was different, before. They could be hurt, be tortured, and it was almost alright because at least they  _ understood  _ what was happening, but they don’t think Vogel is more than about ten, thrown into a place that only wants to bring him harm, lost without the closest thing he has to a family now. 

Gripps rubs Vogel's hands through Martin's jumpsuit, trying to lend them both some warmth, while Cross does his best to hold them all  close. 

“The fuck are they trying to do?” Cross growls, their usual rule of trying to avoid swearing around Vogel thrown out the window. “They keep this up, we're all gonna--”

“We'll be okay,” Martin interrupts, squeezing his eyes shut against the thought of one or more of them dying from this. Blackwing's never seemed interested in actually killing them, but there's a first time for everything. “We're all gonna be okay.”

Vogel presses his face into Martin's shoulder, shivering violently. Martin prays the boy isn't crying, knowing that having his eyelids freeze shut would only scare him more. 

“Forty degrees,” Gripps says. 

“When's hypothermia happen?” Martin watches the fog from his breath drift between them, leaving a dusting of frost in Vogel's hair. 

“Body temperature below 95.”

Martin doesn't ask what any of their temperatures are, not wanting to know how close they're coming. 

There's a clanging noise by the doors. When Martin glances over, he sees the doors opening a little, and a body being shoved in. They're in a jumpsuit too, and even if he couldn't see the colors, Martin could identify the scent of Icarus's fear anywhere. 

“Feelin’ hungry, boys?” he hears Osmund say through the speakers. 

They all huddle closer together. They haven't been fed in over a week, and Martin can feel their collective hunger, but he's more interested in being warm than fed. 

Icarus smells even more terrified when they don't feed on him. 

“Oh, don't feel like havin’ a bite to eat?” Osmund drawls. “Would y'all rather I turned the temperature down? I'm sure at least one of you will survive. It ain't like we  _ need  _ all four of y'all to study.”

Vogel nuzzles into Martin’s jumpsuit, rubbing his nose slowly. “Martin, I’m cold,” he whispers. 

Martin presses his lips to the boy’s forehead. He doesn’t want to give Osmund what he wants, but there’s no choice. He can’t risk Vogel for the sake of his pride. 

“What do you want from us?” he asks. 

Osmund laughs. “I didn’t think you’d be able to hold out much longer, not with the brat there.” 

“Just fucking tell us!” Cross shouts. 

“Now, now. You should teach your boys some manners, Martin.” 

Martin growls, but doesn’t answer back. 

“Now that’s more like it. All you gotta do is feed off little Icarus here. We just want to see how temperature affects you freaks’ abilities.” 

“And then you’ll turn the temperature back up?”

Osmund laughs some more. “We’ll let y’all go back to your little cell and everything.” 

Gripps rubs Vogel’s back gently. “You think you can eat for us?” he asks. 

“Don’t wanna. Wanna be warm.” 

“We can be warm after,” Martin says. 

“Promise?”

“We’ll make a big pile of all our blankets and get warm together!” Cross hugs him as he speaks. “You can have the soft pillow!” 

Vogel whines a little, but turns around. 

“Ready?” Martin asks. 

When Vogel nods, they all look at Icarus, who huddles against the door. 

Martin almost feels bad for Icarus. The boy collapses as they feed, his energy weaker than usual. Even if Icarus is Riggins’ favorite, he’s not exempt from testing, or from being used to give them food. 

Once they’ve had their fill, the room goes quiet, the cooling system finally shutting down. It’s still freezing, but at least it won’t get any colder. 

The door opens and someone reaches in far enough to drag Icarus out. It’s another moment before smoke begins to spill from the vents. It’s the stunning gas, but they’re all too cold and too tired to fight against it. 

Martin falls asleep, Vogel still in his arms, Cross and Gripps holding him. 


	12. Electrocution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd, Dirk, and Farah talk about their experiences with electrocution.

They learn to be careful in winter. 

After an afternoon spent watching movies, all of them are curled up on Farah’s sofa (Dirk insists it’s superior to the one in his and Todd’s apartment, since it’s a sectional) and watching  _ The Birdcage _ . Mona is being a knitted lavender sweater for Dirk, and they’re all curled up under a fleece blanket. 

Todd’s phone buzzes with a notification and he reaches out for it, but as he moves, they’re all zapped by the built up static in the blanket. 

Todd goes still, waiting for an attack that doesn’t start. Dirk freezes as well, which Todd doesn’t find particularly surprising, but Farah gasps as well, her eyes wide as one of her hands curls around the blanket. 

The movie continues to play in the background, and Todd grabs the remote to pause it, knowing the mood has been ruined. 

“You guys okay?” he asks. 

Farah nods, but Dirk doesn’t respond, choosing instead to pet Mona. 

“Dirk?” 

Dirk glances at him, his eyes a little blank. 

Todd rests a hand on his shoulder, Dirk leaning into the touch. 

“It was a common punishment,” he says. “And… I failed tests a lot.” 

Todd pulls him close, and Dirk rests his head on Todd’s shoulder. He’s had enough attacks where he’s electrocuted, the pain more intense than usual, since he knows just how much it hurts in reality. 

“The Men of the Machine,” Farah says. She’s looking at the ground, hugging one knee to her chest. “They… Before they took me to the bridge, they used something on me, I think it was a taser.” 

They know not to push her, know that it’s probably hard enough for her to be this vulnerable, even with people she trusts. 

“That’s why I was so disoriented. I was out of it, and it--it’s not like I’ve never been electrocuted, but that was… different.” 

“It  _ is  _ different,” Todd agrees. “I was getting shocked every other week before the Mexican Funeral broke up, and it was fine. But then the Men of the Machine…” 

He can still feel the harpoon in his hands as he ripped out the wire connecting it to the crossbow, still feel the electricity coursing through him. It wasn’t like when he was younger, or even in the Death Maze with Dirk.

Dirk kisses his cheek. 

“You saved me,” he says. “I know it doesn’t help, but you did.” 

“It does help,” Todd replies, smiling. “I’m glad you’re okay. You too, Farah.” 

She smiles, pressing her foot against his hip in the closest thing to cuddling they usually get from her.

Dirk hums for a moment, his toes wiggling under the blanket. 

“Anyone want hot cocoa?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“Yes, please.” 

He pulls the blanket off of Todd (who squawks at the sudden cold draft) and goes to Farah’s kitchen. 

“Maybe text Tina?” Todd says to Farah. “She might be able to come to visit tomorrow.” 

She nods, and gets her phone from the table beside her. 

When Dirk returns, he’s carrying three mugs on a plate and has a large cotton quilt draped over his shoulders. 

“Mona wanted to help,” he explains, passing out the drinks. 

It turns out Mona is a warm and not at all staticky blanket, which means movie night isn’t ruined after all. 


	13. "Stay"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd has an attack during the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains violence that may be upsetting.

Todd is strapped down to a metal table, straps digging into his chest and hips. There’s a scientist standing over him, and people crowded on one side of the room. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks, struggling against the restraints, but there’s no give to them. 

“As you can see,” the scientist says to the crowd, ignoring him, “this is a previously undiscovered project. We will have to perform experiments to know the exact nature of his abilities.” 

“Experiments?! I’m not some fucking toy! Let me go!” He continues shouting until he sees something silver in the scientist’s hand. As it’s brought closer, he realizes it’s a scalpel. 

“No… Don’t!” he says, but it’s too late. The scalpel digs into his chest, cutting him open.

It doesn’t matter if he’s going to bleed out. Todd does everything he can to get away from the pain of the blade in his flesh. 

The scientist grabs his shoulder, holding him down, but Todd’s hand is suddenly free to push the man away. 

“Get the fuck away from me, you sick fuck!”

He can hear the man fall away from him, but when he opens his eyes the crowd of people is gone, although his chest still hurts. Todd looks down and sees the scalpel is embedded in his chest, several cuts around it leaving streaks of blood on his skin. 

There’s movement to the side, and he tries to scramble away, but moving is too painful, so he collapses on his side, curled up to try and keep himself from further harm. 

“Todd?” he hears over his own whimpering. “Todd, you’re having an attack. I think you had a nightmare as well.” 

Something rattles behind him. 

“I’ve got your medication. I don’t want to put it in your mouth if it’ll scare you more, but you need to take it.” 

He whimpers some more when someone touches his shoulder. 

“This will help, I promise, Todd.” 

Something about the voice makes him want to trust it, so he opens his mouth. 

Whatever touches his tongue is bitter, but familiar. Swallowing it, he keeps his eyes closed until the pain in his chest has faded and, when he opens his eyes again, the scalpel is gone. 

“Todd?”

He turns around, and sees Dirk standing near his bed. 

“Thanks,” he says. 

Attacks that start as actual nightmares are rare for him, but he’s found they’re some of the worst. Being disoriented from the beginning means he forgets it's an attack, and won't think to take his medication. 

“Feeling better?” Dirk asks. 

He nods.  

Dirk bounces on his toes, fidgeting with the rainbow bracelet on his wrist that Todd is fairly sure is Mona. 

“I'll… I'll go then,” Dirk says, beginning to walk away.

“Wait.”

Dirk pauses, one foot hovering in the air. 

“Stay… please?” Todd says. “I… I don't really want to be alone right now.”

“Can I sit with you?”

Nodding, Todd moves over so Dirk has space. 

Dirk clambers onto the bed and sits beside him. He wraps his arms around Todd, pulling gently in invitation until Todd moves to sit on his lap.

“Is this alright?”

“Yeah.”

Dirk's pajamas are soft against his skin, making him happy that he didn't wear pajamas of his own. 

He thinks back to when they first moved in, how Dirk had always slept in whatever he had worn during the day. Todd had asked about it, and Dirk said it was what he had done as long as he could remember. Todd bought him a few pairs of pajamas for Christmas, and Dirk has worn them every night since. 

Before they went to bed, he had noticed a scar peeking out from the collar, and asked Dirk about it. 

Todd realizes, now, that the conversation is probably what caused his nightmare and attack. Hearing about how Blackwing had experimented on Dirk, cut him open to find the answers to something unexplainable. 

Deep down, it scared him.

Dirk's arms tighten around his waist. 

He feels something move, and looks down to find a puppy crawling over his blankets and onto his lap. 

“Hi, Mona,” he says, petting her. 

“She was worried,” Dirk tells him. 

Todd scratches Mona behind the ears. “I'm okay. Just had an attack.”

Dirk rests his chin on Todd's shoulder, reaching out to pull pat Mona as well. 

Their fingers brush together, and Todd entangles them for a moment until Mona barks, clearly wanting more pets. 

“Can you stay the night?” he asks Dirk, picking Mona up and holding her so he can pat her more easily. 

“I live here Todd, I don't really have anywhere else--oh. Oh, you mean stay in your room for the night, not generally stay the night in this apartment, don't you?”

“...Yes.”

Dirk nuzzles into his shoulder. “Then I can.”


	14. Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Project Icarus undergoes surgery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains violence that may be upsetting, including torture, vivisection, and child abuse.

The ceiling must be covered in ants. It doesn’t make any sense, he knows that. He’s never seen any bugs in Blackwing that weren’t Mona, and she wouldn’t be in the operating room, not when the surgeons are working on him and have to keep it clean. 

But that doesn’t change the fact that ants are walking all over the ceiling. They’re walking in circles and it’s making him dizzy to watch them, but the only other thing he can do is watch what the surgeons are doing, and all the blood is scary to look at.

He wonders what the ants are doing, if they’re getting food. This isn’t a good place to find food--they should go to the cafeteria. Colonel Riggins brings him there sometimes when he’s done well on his tests and there’s so much food. Sometimes there’s even cake, which he always tries to sneak some of to Mona. 

Svlad watches them go round and round and round above him, imagining that they’re doing a dance for him. They all move really well together, and he bets they’re listening to fun music. 

Svlad wants to dance with them, but the surgeons wouldn’t like it. 

The doors open. He’d look at whoever came in but the ants are more fun to look at. 

“How’s it goin’?”

The surgeons look up. 

“Sir, this is a sterile room! You’re going to contaminate--”

“So?” 

A face enters Svlad’s view. It’s Mr. Priest, grinning down at him. 

“We ain’t worried about an infection, are we kiddo?” 

“Sir, it could be life threatening--” 

“It couldn’t. Icarus here doesn’t have that problem.” He reaches down and ruffles Svlad’s hair. 

Svlad doesn’t want to look at Mr. Priest, doesn’t want to feel scared when he’s already in surgery, but Mr. Priest doesn’t like being ignored, so he looks over. It’s good that there’s a tube in this mouth or he’d be expected to talk as well. 

Mr. Priest looks back up at the surgeons, hopefully content with Svlad’s behavior. “You boys should really get out more, let your hair down.” 

“My-My expertise is more--”

Mr. Priest scoffs at the surgeon. “C’mon. There ain’t any risks with this one.”

Svlad sees Mr. Priest moving out of the corner of his eye, and feels something inside him shift. It hurts, but he can't move, can't even beg for mercy. 

It wouldn't matter it he could though. Mr. Priest only hurts him more when does, so he squeezes his eyes shut and thinks about the ants on the ceiling. 

Mona would like the ants. She would dance with them or be a stage for them or maybe a music box so they had a song. 

Svlad thinks it would be nice to be like Mona sometimes. She’s told him what it’s like to be a blanket, that everything is soft and warm and comfortable. He’d like that. Right now, he’s scared and cold, and he can feel more and more of what the surgeons are doing. 

“Sir, are you certain he isn’t capable of dying?” one or the surgeons asks. 

“We think it’s more that he can’t be killed,” Mr. Priest replies, shrugging. Had a fun day of testing a couple years ago. Somethin’ always got in the way or malfunctioned.” 

“That doesn’t--”

“--Make sense?” Mr. Priest finishes for the surgeon. “We got a girl downstairs who spends most of her time as an inanimate object. Incubus ain’t eaten actual food in years but they’re still alive and kickin’. None of the projects make sense, you oughta get used to it.” 

Svlad remembers the day Mr. Priest is talking about, although he hadn’t known that’s what they were testing for. 

He thinks about what Mr. Priest is saying, that he can’t be killed. Blackwing can do whatever they want to him and he’ll survive for the next torment, and the next, and the next. 

Mr. Priest touches his cheek, his hand damp against Svlad’s skin. “You still with us, Icarus? Ain’t fun when you pass out.” 

Svlad looks at him and blinks a few times. 

“Good boy.”

Mr. Priest pats his cheek, his fingers sticking a little with whatever’s on his hand. 

“Well, I gotta go check on Incubus,” he says to the surgeons. “Have fun, boys.” 

Svlad watches Mr. Priest as long as he can, then goes back to watching the ants on the ceiling. 


	15. Manhandling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Beast's capture.

Big moon shine in sky. Is pretty. 

Beastie make happy noise at moon, hope moon like song. 

Hope moon like borga too. Beastie throw moon borgas. One two three four five borgas. 

Moon smile. 

Beastie like moon. Moon is friend. Beastie not have many friend. 

Borga not friend but borga tasty. Beastie tell moon story when eat borga. 

“Beastie find happy in forest. Happy red.” 

Beastie show moon happy. Beastie throw happy but not to moon, just show moon. 

Moon smile. 

“You friend?” Beastie ask happy. 

Happy roll away. 

“No friend?” 

Beastie pounce on happy. 

“Friend? No friend?” 

Beastie throw happy. Happy land in Beastie hand. 

“Friend!” 

Beastie have one two friend. 

Beastie tell moon and happy story. Beastie like tell story. 

Beastie hear noise in forest. Beastie not like noise. Like forest but not like noise of thump thump thump thump thump. 

Beastie hide happy behind big stone chair. Happy safe. 

Moon too big for hide. 

“You safe?” Beastie ask. “You safe? Hide!” 

More thump thump thump from forest. More loud.

Beastie look for hide place. 

Thump thump thump. 

Vine hide place. 

Thump thump thump thump thump. 

Shiny men come. Shiny men have shiny stick. 

Men look round see vine. See Beastie. 

“Found a witchakookoo!” men say. 

Beastie try run, men catch. Men grab Beastie arm make can’t run. Beastie try kick. 

Men laugh make Beastie walk. 

Box in forest. Beastie see through box see forest. 

Men make Beastie in box.

Beastie not see moon. Beastie not see happy. 

Beastie curl up. 

Beastie have no friend. Miss moon. Miss happy. 


	16. Bedridden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd can't bring himself to get out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a description of my experience with depression, which may be upsetting.

The door opens and Todd rolls over so he’s facing away from it. 

“Todd?” Dirk says behind him. “It’s… It’s almost five in the afternoon and, well, if you hadn’t noticed, you’ve spent the day in bed and while I’m absolutely one for spending a day under a blanket rather than doing paperwork I--” 

“I’m fine, Dirk,” Todd interrupts. 

Dirk is quiet for a moment. Todd thinks he hears shuffling but doesn’t care enough to find out what Dirk’s doing. 

“You don’t sound like you have a cold, Todd.” 

Todd sighs. “I don’t have a cold. I’m fine.” 

“I don’t think you would be in bed all day if you were fine.” 

He knows Dirk is only trying to help, but Todd wants to be left alone. 

“Look,” Todd says, rolling back over and stopping as he comes face-to-face with two big, blue eyes. He leans back and realizes the eyes belong to a small (slightly wall eyed) white kitten. 

The kitten mews and rests a paw on Todd’s nose. 

Any other time, he’d coo over Mona’s acting skills, but right now he just doesn’t have it in him to do so. 

He sighs again. “If you need anything let me know. I just don’t really feel like doing anything today.” 

Dirk comes over and picks Mona up, cuddling her to his chest. 

“I’m happy to help if you need anything.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Are you mad at me?” Dirk asks. “I’m sorry if I did something--”

“You didn’t. I’m not mad at you.” 

“Then why…”

“I just get like this sometimes. It's just… a thing that happens.”

Dirk nods, frowning, and rocks on his heels a bit. “I guess we’ll… we’ll go then,” he says, and leaves, closing Todd's door quietly behind him. 

Todd stares at the door, waiting for Dirk to come back. It isn't that he wants to be alone, not really, but this kind of mood just makes him shitty to be around. 

Dirk doesn't come back, so he rolls back over. 

It's almost like a physical pain when he's like this. It makes his chest feel tight and makes breathing like inhaling water. But for as much as it hurts, he can’t actually  _ feel  _ anything. There’s no sadness or anger or fear, just… nothingness. It’s almost like a black hole has formed where his heart was, eating up everything around it. The nothingness weighs on him, like the entire world is somehow pressing down on him. When he manages to get out of bed on these days, he can hardly hold his head up, can hardly stand up straight. 

So he usually ends up lying in bed all day. It means he doesn't have to worry about people asking if he's okay, except now he lives with his best friend/kind of boyfriend who cares about him and wants him to be okay. 

And some kind of boyfriend he's being in return. Instead of spending time with Dirk on one of the few days that the universe isn't sending them off on an absurd adventure, he's lying in his bed alone. 

Sighing, Todd pulls his blanket over his head. He wants to be alone, but he also wants Dirk there. It feels unfair to make Dirk put up with him when he feels alone no matter how many people are around him. 

Todd wishes he could cry, wishes he could do  _ something  _ other than lie on his bed feeling sorry for himself. Even an attack would be welcome right now, but attacks are usually caused by stress, and stress is a feeling that he can’t bring himself to have right now. 

His mind goes in circles for who knows how long. He watches his room get darker and darker, but even the thought of turning on the lamp beside his bed is too much.

Who cares if it’s dark? Who cares about anything? 

Eventually, there’s a knock at the door. When Todd doesn’t answer, it opens. 

“Todd?” he hears Dirk say, too apathetic to even face the man. “I… Farah and I are just a bit worried and… well I brought you some food, if you’d like some?” 

Dirk sits behind him and rests a hand on his shoulder. He shakes Todd, and gets a grunt in reply. 

“Please just eat a little, Todd?” 

He doesn’t want to eat, but Todd supposes that he owes it to Dirk. 

The plate Dirk is carrying is covered with breakfast foods: eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, and a waffle drenched with syrup and topped with whipped cream. 

He gets through half of it before giving up, but Dirk still smiles at him when he hands the plate back.

“Well done, Todd.” 

A part of him wants to scream. He hasn’t  _ done well _ . As much as Dirk likes to believe otherwise, he’s a piece of shit, and he doesn’t deserve the people around him. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asks. “Isn’t there… Isn’t there something more important that the universe needs you to do?”

Dirk puts the plate on Todd’s bedside table. As he turns, something falls out of his pocket. This time, Mona looks like a lion with the proportions of a kitten. As she walks across his sheets, she turns into a Yorkshire terrier. She climbs over Todd’s legs, curls up in the hammock of blanket between them, and starts to purr. 

“As far as I can tell,” Dirk says, pulling Todd’s focus back to him, “someone I care about very much is in pain, and the universe is telling me to take care of him.” 

“What’s the point--”

“Because I love you, Todd. You are… very important to me and a vital part of the detective agency. If the window was broken, we’d repair it, so… it seems you need repairing.” 

Dirk shifts closer, wrapping an arm around Todd. 

“I know there isn’t much I can do to help, but I’ll do what I can.” 

Todd still feels alone, still feels like there’s a gaping hole in his chest instead of a heart, but he can’t push Dirk away, not when the universe might take it as an invitation to take him away again. 

“I’m here,” Dirk says, hugging him. “And here is where I want to be.” 


	17. Drugged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bart and Mr. Priest have a tea party.

The door opens, and Bart sits straighter when she sees who it is. 

“Hi, Mr. Priest!” 

“Hey, Bart. How you doin’ today?” 

Bart shrugs. “I’m bored. Do I get to go outside today?” 

She likes going outside. It’s boring in here. Mr. Priest says there are other kids, but she never gets to meet any of them. One time he said she would get some playtime with one, but she got to the room and the only thing in it was just a chair. It was a pretty chair, with soft pink fabric and frills, but she didn’t know how to play with it. 

“Sorry, Boss didn’t say we could. Why, you feel like you should be killin’ anyone?” 

“Nah. I’m just bored.” 

“You poor thing,” he says, walking into the room and sitting in the other chair. “How ‘bout we do somethin’ other than killin’?” 

“Like what?” 

Mr. Priest hums, drumming his fingers on the table in her room. “I got an idea. Lemme see if the Boss’d allow it.” 

He stands back up and walks to the door. He peeks his head out and has a conversation with someone in the hallway. Mr. Priest stands by the door for a few minutes before there’s a buzzing noise. He takes something from someone outside, and when he turns, Bart sees that it’s a tray with cups. 

“What’s that?” 

“We’re gonna have ourselves a tea party,” Mr. Priest tells her. “Now, normally you’re supposed to have a tea set for this but I ain’t got one, so this’ll have to do.” 

There are six cups on the tray, three on each side. 

“What’s in ‘em?” 

“Green tea, black tea, ginger tea,” Mr. Priest says, pointing at two cups at a time.

Bart looks in the cups. The black tea and green tea are the right colors. She’s never heard of the color ginger, but she guesses it’s the color of the liquid in the last cup.

“Let’s start with the ginger tea.” Mr. Priest has already grabbed his cup and is handing Bart hers. 

Bart takes the cup, but Mr. Priest shakes his head. 

“Hold it like this,” he says, showing her how he’s holding his cup with his pinkie held out. 

“Why?” 

Mr. Priest laughs. “‘Cause that’s how you do it.” 

She thinks it’s a weird way to hold a cup, but Bart does as she’s told. 

When it touches her mouth, Bart realizes that it’s hot, and has a taste. She didn’t know you could drink hot things, or that drinks could have tastes. 

The ginger tea is hot when it goes down, making her throat burn. Something about the taste makes her think of the stuff Mr. Priest uses when he gets hurt outside. One time she knocked over the bottle and the truck smelled like the stuff all the way back to the base. It was so strong that Bart could even taste it a little. 

“It good?” Mr. Priest asks. 

“It’s kinda weird.” 

He laughs. “Yeah, it ain’t my cup of tea either.” 

Bart frowns. “No, my cup of tea was weird. I didn’t drink from yours.” 

Mr. Priest laughs again. “Why don’t you choose the next one?” 

She looks at the other cups. The black tea is a pretty color, so she points at that. 

When she picks up the cup, Mr. Priest smiles at her for holding it right, but before she can take a sip, her fingers cramp a little and the cup splits on one side. Bart gasps as it gets all over the table. 

She slouches in her chair. “Sorry, Mr. Priest.” 

“That’s alright, darlin’,” Mr. Priest replies. “You can have mine.” 

“Thank you,” Bart says. It always makes Mr. Priest happy when she says please and thank you. 

The black tea tastes nicer than the ginger. It doesn’t have the weird taste, and it doesn’t burn as she drinks it. 

While she sips, Mr. Priest grabs a little towel that had been on the tray and wipes off the table. 

“Don’t you want some?” she asks when the tea is half gone. She holds the cup out to him, but Mr. Priest shakes his head. 

“You drink up.”

He pats her on the head when she’s finished drinking, and Bart giggles. 

“You’re weird,” she says. 

“You’re callin’ the kettle black, Bart.” 

Mr. Priest is really weird. 

She sniffs the last cup of tea without touching it, wanting to wait for Mr. Priest to finish cleaning the table. 

It smells nicer than she expects, since green things are usually gross. When she leans closer, she smiles. 

“Mr. Priest! I know this smell!” 

He looks at her, sitting back down. “Do ya?” 

Bart grins wider. 

“Last time it was cold!” She thinks back, remembering. They’d gone outside, and Mr. Priest made her wear heavy clothes. It was all white outside, and his nose was red. “We went to a place with food and you got me something that was normal food except it was tiny and sweet!” 

He nods slowly. “Yeah, I remember.” 

She thinks a little harder. He said he’d bought it for her for a reason, and she tries to think of why.

Bart thinks of the name she has here. Marzanna.

“Marza--Marzipan! You got it ‘cause it’s like my other name!” Bart sniffs again. “This smells like it!” 

“You really liked marzipan, didn’t you?” 

Bart nods, proud that she remembered. 

“Then have some of this,” Mr. Priest says. “I bet you’ll like this, too.” 

He picks up the cup and moves to hand it to her, but his elbow hits his own cup. It spills onto his lap and he jumps, spilling the tea in his hand as well. 

“Shit!”

“Are you okay?” Bart asks. “You spilled all of it.” 

“Just a little burn,” Mr. Priest tells her. He glances at the door and groans. “We're gonna have to finish our tea party some other time.”

Bart wants to argue, but she knows Mr. Priest is busy. “Okay.” She watches him gather up the cups. “Sorry, Mr. Priest.” 

“It ain’t your fault,” he says giving her a slightly strained smile. 

He wipes off the table with his sleeve and picks up the tray. 

“Can we go outside tomorrow?” Bart asks. 

“I’ll ask the Boss. It’s lights out soon, so you better get into bed.”

“Yes, Mr. Priest. Thank you for the tea party, it was fun!”

Mr. Priest waves as the door closes behind him. 

\--

“I’d like an explanation.” 

Priest rolls his eyes at Riggins. “I don’t know how all that went wrong, except for that she can’t be hurt.” 

“You didn’t spill her tea purposefully?” 

“I ain’t gonna interfere with testing, you of all people should know that.” 

Riggins’ lips twist a little. “Even testing that could potentially kill your favorite of the subjects?” 

“You’re one to talk,  _ sir _ .” 

“I don’t think I need to remind you of who has power over your circumstances,” Riggins says. “I’m more than happy to reinstate the Abbadon project if necessary.” 

Priest keeps his mouth shut, even if he knows that Riggins is in no place to contain him. 

“Every one of those cups was inspected beforehand. There's no reason why the cup should have broken.”

“And the other one?” 

“I was movin’ away from my body. Even if I knocked it over, it should have spilled away from me.” 

Riggins doesn’t look particularly convinced. 

“You wanna review the footage, you be my guest.” 

He doesn’t wait for Riggins to answer, or to be dismissed. He’s not going to grovel for the man, or beg for another chance like Icarus would. He’s got better things to do with his time. 


	18. Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Svlad can't find his parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This story is REALLY SAD.

Svlad looks out the window through the curtains, checking to see if his parents’ car is coming up the driveway, but it's dark outside, so he goes back to sitting on the sofa and waiting. 

They've been gone since before he woke up.

He wants to look outside again, but he knows they have important things to do, even if he misses them. 

Eventually, the cuckoo clock in the hallway chimes for 8 o'clock. Svlad wants to prove to his parents that he can be responsible, so he puts on his pajamas and gets into bed. It’s hard to fall asleep without a bedtime story from his Mama or a lullaby from his Papa, but Svlad does his best to whisper himself a story and sing a song for himself. When he falls asleep, it’s with the hope that his family will be back in the morning. 

\--

When Svlad wakes up, he practically jumps out of bed. He runs out of his bedroom to look around the house, but his parents aren’t anywhere to be found. 

Svlad tells himself he isn’t a baby and shouldn’t cry just because he can’t find his Mama and Papa. If they were here, they’d be proud of him for being strong. 

He goes to the kitchen to make himself something for breakfast, and jumps when the phone rings. 

All but running to the phone, Svlad grabs it so quickly that he nearly drops it as he tries to answer. 

“Mama? Papa? Are you coming home?” 

“Well, hey there, Svlad,” says a man that isn’t his Papa. 

“Who… who are you? Do you know--”

“Now, I know you must miss your mommy and daddy so much,” the voice says, “and I didn’t want to take them, but I had to so I could have a nice little talk with you.” 

“Where are they?” 

“Well, your parents didn’t teach you any manners, did they? You turn around and look at your dining table.” 

Svlad does as he’s told. There’s an envelope he didn’t see before. 

“Take a look inside that envelope. It’s got somethin’ you might wanna see.” 

He opens it and finds two pictures inside. Svlad pulls them out and wants to close his eyes when he sees them. He’s not supposed to watch scary movies because they always give him nightmares, and the pictures look like they’re from a scary movie, except the people in the pictures are his Mama and Papa. They both have a lot of blood on them. Mama looks like she’s going to fall asleep, and Papa is crying and Papa  _ never  _ cries. 

“What’s going on?” Svlad asks. He’s really scared and wants his Mama and Papa, but they look like they’re hurt really bad and he doesn’t know where they are. 

“You don’t need to worry about them, Svlad. They’re still alive and kickin’, but they ain’t gonna be for long unless you do what I say.” 

“What… what do you want me to do?” Svlad asks. He’s not supposed to listen to strangers, but he thinks it’s okay because Mama and Papa are in trouble.

“There’s a black car pulling up outside your house right now. You go outside and get in the car and do what you’re told. ‘Cause if you misbehave I’m gonna have to hurt your mommy, and she ain’t doin’ too good right now.” 

There’s a noise in the phone that Svlad thinks sounds like his Mama. She sounds like she’s hurt already. 

“Mama!” Svlad shouts, but the person hangs up. 

Svlad runs to the living room and sees the car outside, so he runs to the front door, not caring if it isn’t closed behind him. 

The car door opens before he reaches it, and a man climbs out. 

“Hello, Svlad.”

Svlad recognizes the man. He saw him at the park a few days ago. The man had tried to talk to him, but Svlad knew he wasn't supposed to go near the man, so he had gone to his Mama and they went home. 

The man holds out one of his hands. “I’m Colonel Riggins, I’m in charge of a program called Blackwing.”

Svlad has seen grown-ups shake hands, but no one has ever wanted to shake  _ his  _ hand. He does his best, and hopes he’s doing okay enough that his Mama won’t be hurt. 

“Why don’t you get into the car and we can have a little talk.”

Svlad does as he’s told, climbing into the car. The man closes the door behind him and walks to the other side so he can get in as well. 

Colonel Riggins asks him questions while the car drives around. They’re mostly about Svlad, like what his hobbies are, but some of them are about his family. 

Svlad does his best to answer every question, and gets scared every time he doesn’t know the answer to something, worrying that his Mama is getting hurt because of him. 

After a long time, the car stops. The car windows are dark, so Svlad doesn’t know where they are until Colonel Riggins gets out of the car and opens his door. 

There isn’t much outside other than a building, and Colonel Riggins ushers Svlad inside before he can get a better look at everything around them. 

The building is mostly hallways that lead to doors, and Svlad wonders what’s in all the rooms. 

Colonel Riggins opens a door and lets Svlad go inside. The room is empty except for two more doors at one end. 

“Which door should we go through?” Colonel Riggins asks him. 

Svlad stares at the man. “I… I don’t know? I’ve never been here before.” He doesn’t want to do anything wrong, but he doesn’t understand.

“Just choose one.” 

Svlad looks at the the doors. They look the same, but something tells him that the door on the right is the one Colonel Riggins wants him to open. 

“The… The right one?” 

Colonel Riggins looks pleased when he says that, and the door on the right opens, a man stepping into the room with them. 

“Well, hey there, Colonel. I was just talkin’ to Mr. and Mrs. Cjelli.” 

Svlad recognizes the man’s voice as the one from the phone. He tries to look past the man to see if his parents are inside, but the man grins and moves to block the door. 

Colonel Riggins touches his shoulder and makes Svlad turn around. 

“Svlad, there’s something I want to ask you,” he says. “The organization I work for, Blackwing. We’d really like for you to be a part of it.”

Svlad bites his lip. “If I do, what will happen to Mama and Papa?” 

“We ain’t gonna hurt ‘em anymore, I’ll tell you that,” the other man says. 

He doesn’t really trust that man, so he looks at Colonel Riggins. “Promise?” 

Colonel Riggins nods. “But you won’t be able to see them again. Blackwing doesn’t allow it.” 

“I… I won’t be able to see them?” 

“No.” 

“But…” He doesn’t want to be alone, but if he doesn’t do what he’s told, his Mama and Papa will be hurt, and then he might really never be able to see them again. He can’t let them get hurt because of him, not if there’s a way to keep them safe. “Can I at least say goodbye to them before I go with you?” 

Colonel Riggins looks over his shoulder, probably at the other man. Svlad tries not to squirm as he waits for an answer. 

It seems like forever, but Colonel Riggins nods again, and Svlad turns to run into the room. 

His heart thumps in his chest as he runs by the other man. It almost stops when he sees inside the room. 

Mama and Papa are tied to chairs with tape over their mouths. Mama’s got a lot of blood on her face, and Papa’s shirt looks wet. 

He rushes towards them and pulls the tape off of their mouths as gently as he can. 

“Svlad!” Mama says when she can talk again. “What are you doing here?” 

“They said… They won’t hurt you anymore if I go with them,” he answers. “I can’t let them hurt you more.” 

“You can’t go with them.” Papa sounds so tired, and like he wants to cry but Svlad shakes his head. 

He tries to undo the tape that’s holding them to the chairs, but his fingers are shaking so much that it’s hard. 

Svlad gives up when he can’t see anymore because there are too many tears in his eyes. He wants a hug from his Mama and Papa, wants to go home and not ever go away from them, but he’s already said he would go with Colonel Riggins, and if he went home it would be without Mama and Papa. 

He wipes his eyes on the back of his sleeve and gets the tape off of one of Mama’s wrists. She reaches over and undoes the other side for him, before standing up to free Papa. Papa tries to stand up, but ends up kneeling on the ground. 

“Papa…” Svlad knows that Papa is hurt, so he steps closer and hugs him. Papa’s hugs always make him feel better, and even if Svlad isn’t strong and brave like Papa is, he hopes the hug helps a little. 

Papa holds him tight, and then he feels Mama hugging him too. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Mama says.

Svlad wishes he could change his mind. 

He hears someone else in the room, and when he looks up, he sees the man from the phone watching them. 

“Time’s up,” he says. 

“But--”

The man pulls a gun out and aims it at them. “You really don’t want to make me repeat myself.” 

Papa makes a scared noise and Mama holds Svlad tighter, but Svlad is already pulling away. He's crying again, not wanting to leave Mama and Papa, but the man will hurt them if he doesn't.

“I love you Mama. I love you Papa,” he says. “I’ll miss you.” 

“We love you too, but please, please don’t go with them, Svlad,” Mama says. 

“Svlad--” Papa’s breathing sounds weird, like it’s hard for him. “We--We love you. For--” He gasps, holding Mama. “We love you forever.” 

“Come with me, Svlad,” he hears, and Svlad turns to see Colonel Riggins in the doorway. He holds out a hand and Svlad takes it, knowing he couldn’t find his way through the building alone. 

He takes one last look at Mama and Papa as he goes. They are both crying, and so is he, but Colonel Riggins is pulling him out the door so he waves a little and keeps walking, trying to not cry too hard so Mama and Papa see that he’s brave. 

\--

Colonel Riggins takes him to a place like a doctor’s office. 

They take a little of his blood and cut off some of his hair and measure him. Svlad is given new clothes that remind him of what nurses wear. They don’t fit very well, but Colonel Riggins says he’ll get something in his size in a few days. 

Colonel Riggins asks if he wants something to eat, but Svlad says no. He didn’t eat breakfast but he isn’t hungry. He just wants his Mama and Papa. 

They walk down a lot more hallways and one door with a bunch of shapes on it opens as they stop outside of it. 

“You’ll sleep here tonight.” 

The room has a bed and a door that Colonel Riggins says goes to the bathroom, but there aren’t any books or toys or anything else. 

Svlad steps into the room and it’s big and empty and lonely. 

“I’ll come by tomorrow. You have a busy day ahead of you,” Colonel Riggins tells him, and then he leaves without saying goodnight or telling a story or anything. 

Svlad sits down on the bed and it’s hard and the blanket is scratchy under his hands, but Colonel Riggins is gone already, so he pulls up the blanket and lies down beneath it. 

Mama isn’t here to tell him a story and Papa isn’t here to sing him a lullaby. Svlad tries to tell himself a story but all he can think about is the blood on Mama’s face. He tries to sing a lullaby but all he can hear is his own crying and how it sounds like how Papa couldn’t breathe before. 

He hugs his pillow and lets himself cry until he falls asleep. 


	19. Exhaustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farah's had a long and tiring day.

“Wanna see everyone,” Tina says quietly, nuzzling into Farah’s chest. “Please?” 

“You should get some rest, then you can,” Farah answers, kissing Tina’s forehead. 

“But I wanna.” 

Tina’s eyes are staying closed longer than they’re open, but she’s holding onto Farah’s shirt with one hand while the other cradles the bundle on her chest, and trying to stay conscious despite it being a losing battle. 

“Please?” 

Farah rubs a hand down Tina’s arm, feeling the rough hospital gown. She wishes Tina could be in something softer. 

“Alright, but you have to sleep after, okay?” 

“Yaaay,” Tina cheers quietly. Her voice sounds a little raw, despite her efforts not to scream too much. Farah can only imagine the pain she was in. 

She grabs the remote and presses the call button on it before she wraps her arms around Tina, supporting some of the weight. A deep, primal instinct is telling her to keep Tina safe, and she isn’t about to fight it right now. 

Tina appears to be asleep when the nurse comes to ask if they need something, and when Farah asks for their friends to be allowed to visit. 

When they’re alone again, Farah’s gaze falls on Tina. 

It wasn’t an easy road to get here, for either of them. Tina doesn’t know much about her biological family, and said she wasn’t interested in telling them about their relationship. Farah’s family never really liked her at the best of times, always saw her as the failure of the family, and falling in love with another woman didn’t change that. Eddie sent them a card for their wedding, but it was the end of their involvement. 

Their new family, the family they found, the family that helped them find  _ each other _ has been the rock they could build their lives upon, even if that family sometimes led to danger, time travel, and parallel universes. 

Somehow, they stayed together despite it all, too intertwined to let go. 

They’re even more intertwined now, and Farah doesn’t think she could be happier. 

A knock at the door pulls Farah from her thoughts, and she calls for them to enter, shaking Tina gently. 

Tina whines, but smiles when she opens her eyes to see Hobbs, Dirk, Todd, and Lydia. Lydia has a tiny white teddy bear, and Hobbs and Dirk are both carrying blankets. 

Lydia rushes over to embrace Farah while Hobbs walks to Tina’s side, hugging her while minding the baby in her arms. 

“Oh, Tina,” he says quietly. “I’m so proud of you. You’re so cool and amazing and--and…” he sniffles a little, grinning like there’s no tomorrow. 

Tina bounces the baby and glances at Farah. When she receives an encouraging nod, she turns back to Hobbs. 

“I… I want you to meet Sherlock,” she says. 

Hobbs tips a hat that isn’t there, having come to the hospital in pajamas. “It’s nice to meet you, sweetie. What’s your name?” 

Tina shakes her head. “No.” She laughs, a soft blush dusting her cheeks. “ _ This _ \--” She lifts the baby minutely. “--Is Sherlock. Sherlock Tevetino Black.” 

Hobbs’ mouth falls open, and he only doesn’t drop the blanket he had because Dirk catches it. “You…” He closes his mouth but it’s too late to stop the tears that have begun to fall. He wipes his eyes with a smile. “Really?”

“Who else were we gonna name him after?” 

“Well, there were other options,” Dirk says. “Apparently there’s a frankly alarming number of people alive today and--” Todd elbows him, and he stops. “You couldn’t have chosen a better name.” 

They all chat for a while, Lydia offers the teddy bear to Sherlock, Hobbs gives Tina the blanket he brought (he tells the story of learning how to quilt to make it for them). Dirk holds out his blanket but it changes from a rainbow afghan to a yellow and purple rattle. 

“Mona said she’d help if you need anything--blankets, toys, a crib…” 

“Thanks… Mona,” Tina says, pausing in the middle to yawn. 

Farah kisses her cheek. “You should rest.” 

Tina whines at her. “But…” 

“You said you would after we got to see everyone, and you’re falling asleep.” 

“You should,” Hobbs agrees. “You too, Farah.” 

“I’m fine,” Farah tells them, and even  _ Dirk  _ gives her a look. 

“When was the last time you slept?” Todd asks her. 

She thinks back and realizes it’s been over 24 hours since they rushed to the hospital. She’s been so focused on Tina and the baby that she hasn’t noticed how tired she is. 

“Come on, take a nap with me,” Tina says, nuzzling her shoulder. 

Farah kisses her on the head. “Okay.” 

“Should we go?” Hobbs asks. “Don’t wanna keep you guys up.” 

“I’m not sure if that would be possible,” Farah replies, seeing how Tina’s already started to fall asleep again. “Can you…” She pauses, looking around at them. “Can you keep an eye on Sherlock? I know… I know nothing will happen but…” 

“Of course,” Todd says, everyone else nodding. 

“We’re safe,” Tina whispers to her, cuddling closer. 

“I know.” Farah does know it, but it’s always been hard to let her guard down, and now she has someone new to protect. 

But she also has people who will protect  _ her _ , who will make sure she isn’t hurt, a family that doesn’t think she’s broken or crazy, that’s just as broken and crazy as she is. 


	20. Concussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd hits his head. Because he is a disaster.

Todd lies on the floor, whimpering in pain. His arms are heavy but he manages to move them, touching his head where the pain is coming from. He doesn't think he's bleeding, but he can't open his eyes to check because the room is spinning while his eyes are  _ closed _ . 

There’s a buzzing noise, and Todd groans quietly. It feels like his  _ head _ is buzzing and he’d really like it to stop. 

He rolls onto his side and the buzzing happens again. Todd feels around with his hand, trying to find the source of the noise, but it stops before he finds it. 

The third time the buzzing happens, he realizes it’s his phone. He’s not really sure how it ended up on the floor or, honestly, how  _ he  _ ended up on the floor. 

He opens his eyes and looks around, whining when it makes him even dizzier and forces him to close them again. At least he saw his phone. 

Todd grabs it, his hand flopping uselessly a few times before he finds it. 

It buzzes a fourth time, and Todd relies on muscle memory to answer it. 

“H’llo?” 

“Todd?” Dirk says. “About time you answered! I know you aren’t really the best at it but could you at least pick up the phone when it’s me? What if it was an emergency!? ...Not that it  _ is  _ an emergency, we’re just at the grocery store and wanted to know if you’d rather a cake with chocolate frosting or custard on the inside and whether you mind the Rowdies coming for dinner. Amanda said they’d figured out a way to barbecue without a risk of actually blowing things up which I doubt but--Are you listening?” 

Todd moans in response. 

Dirk doesn’t answer for a moment. “Todd, if you’re doing what I think you’re doing, this isn’t really the time or place.” 

Todd hears something in the room with him. Something cold touches his hand, but he’s starting to feel really tired from listening to Dirk talk. 

There’s another voice, this one not sounding muffled like it’s coming through a speaker. Todd is too tired to figure out who it is. 

He feels something soft being placed under his head, then something warm on top of him, and he lets himself fall asleep. 

\--

Dirk rushes into the agency, running up the stairs to the apartment he shares with Todd. Farah is behind him, which is honestly a good thing since if Todd was attacked she’s… slightly more effective as a fighting force than Dirk himself. 

He’s thankful that Mona stayed home with Todd, that she was able to tell him that Todd was lying on the floor and not responding to her. She said she’d take care of him, and Dirk trusts her, but they hardly stand a chance against a force like Blackwing when they’re together, apart it’s hopeless. 

As he gets to the kitchen, he finds Todd unconscious, a pillow under his head and a blanket with a pattern of guitars and musical notes covering him. He’s at Todd’s side in a moment, checking that he’s still breathing and for any wounds. 

He shakes Todd as gently as he can until Todd blinks awake with a groan. 

“What happened?” Dirk asks. 

“Uh?” 

“Dirk,” Farah says, and he looks up at her. There’s a pan on the floor next to Todd, and a lid near his head. Farah picks a knife up from the counter. 

“Todd?” he says again. 

Todd looks around, and then shuts his eyes. 

“Dropped it.” 

“Dropped…” Dirk glances where Todd had looked and sees the pan lid. “You dropped it?”

“It must’ve hit him,” Farah says.

Dirk watches as Todd nods slowly. 

He swallows. “Will he be alright? Should we take him to the hospital?” 

Farah kneels down next to Todd and checks him over. 

“I think he’s going to be alright, but we’ll need to keep an eye on him in case it gets any worse. I’ll get him an ice pack.”

Dirk tucks Mona around Todd, patting her to let her know he appreciates her caring for Todd in his absence.

Farah returns with an ice pack, pressing it to Todd’s head. 

\--

Todd wakes up on the sofa. He’s still dizzy when he opens his eyes, but it’s not as bad as before. 

“Hey loser,” he hears, and looks around. Amanda is sitting on the floor with some water, Dirk curled up and asleep beside her. “You okay?” 

Nodding, Todd sits up slowly. The room doesn’t spin around him, but he doesn’t think standing is a good idea. 

“You scared Dirk,” Amanda says. “The boys thought Blackwing had attacked from how worried he was.” 

“No, I was just being a dumbass.” 

“So, the usual, then.” 

Todd flips her off, too tired to do anything more. 

“Just… be careful. For his sake.” Amanda plays with the cuff of her jacket for a moment. “He deserves better than having you die from some idiotic mistake.” 

“I’ll… do my best?” 

Dirk wakes up a few minutes later, and fusses over Todd for the rest of the night. Amanda and the Rowdies keep shooting Todd knowing glances until he tells Dirk he mostly just wants to cuddle, so Dirk settles on the sofa beside him with Mona, who is being a quilt with rainbow hearts on it. 

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Todd says quietly. 

“It was a team effort,” Dirk replies, snuggling closer. 


	21. Harsh Climate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Svlad is given a test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a companion piece to chapter 21 of flightinflame's fic 'Scars that remain', which can be found [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16147310/chapters/38279561)

The alarm wakes Svlad up. It’s been so long that he doesn’t remember what it’s like to wake up to anything else, but he sometimes imagines waking up naturally and feeling rested. 

He sits up and the alarm turns off, but the lights continue to strobe until he’s standing. 

Svlad waits for the guards to come and collect him for testing, but when his door opens, it’s Mr. Priest standing in the hallway and he has to fight not to cower away because Mr. Priest is smiling. 

Somehow, Mr. Priest in a bad mood is nowhere near as bad as Mr. Priest in a good mood. Whenever Mr. Priest is in a bad mood, all he does is hurt Svlad, but when he’s in a good mood, Mr. Priest gets creative. 

“Good morning, Icarus,” Mr. Priest says. 

“Hello, Mr. Priest.” 

Mr. Priest shakes his head. “Good manners today, Icarus. Guess this is why the Colonel decided to give you a little present. Come on out and I’ll take you to it.” 

Svlad steps out of his room and starts to walk towards his usual testing chambers, but Mr. Priest grabs his arm. 

“This way.” 

Mr. Priest keeps a hold on him as they walk, his fingers digging into the fabric of Svlad’s jumpsuit. 

“Now, Icarus,” Mr. Priest says, “do you know what the purpose of Blackwing is?” 

Svlad thinks ‘to torture me’ is probably not the answer Mr. Priest is looking for, although it certainly seems to be what he spends most of his time doing. 

“To… experiment?” he says instead. 

Mr. Priest laughs at him. “We’re here to study anomalous entities,” he glances at Svlad. “Freaks, I mean, like you.” 

Svlad looks at his feet, watching the patterns on the linoleum floor go by. 

“‘Course, you don’t appreciate any of that. You’d rather be outside playin’ “holistic detective”, wouldn’t you?” 

When Svlad doesn’t answer, Mr. Priest digs his fingernails in harder. 

“Wouldn’t you?” he says again, giving Svlad’s arm a shake. 

“Y-Yes, Mr. Priest.”

“Well, that’s where your present comes in, kiddo.” 

Mr. Priest stops outside a door and keys in a code. “Colonel Riggins thought you might enjoy getting to play detective while you’re here, so he found you a case.” 

The door opens and Svlad takes a step inside. It looks like the room opens up into the desert, even though Blackwing is nowhere near the desert as far as Svlad knows. The floor is covered in rocks and dirt, and the walls have big photographs on them that look like the landscape of a desert. 

There’s a file on the ground in the middle of the room. 

“That’s your briefing,” Mr. Priest says, nodding at it. 

Svlad picks it up. It’s filled with newspaper clippings, a few police reports, and photographs. They’re all about a family that’s gone missing while on vacation in a place called “Death Valley”--Svlad can’t imagine  _ wanting  _ to go to a place with a name like that. 

“You’re stayin’ here until you find out where they’ve gone,” Mr. Priest says. Svlad turns to look at him and the man tosses him a bottle of water with a grin. “Have fun, detective.” 

“But--” Svlad begins to say, but Mr. Priest has already closed the door. 

\--

Svlad begins by sitting against one of the walls and reading through the file. If he’s going to solve the case and prove that the universe wants him to be a holistic detective, he has to know what he’s investigating. 

There’s a pencil in the file as well, so he write out his thoughts as he reads. 

When he’s examining a picture of the family’s hotel room, he realizes the room is getting warmer. He wipes the sweat off of his forehead and takes a sip of the water. 

\--

Svlad pulls the top of his jumpsuit off after a while, tying the sleeves around his waist. It’s so hot in the room that his undershirt is almost soaked through. 

It reminds him of a long time ago, a voice that made him feel safe telling him to be careful as an oven door was opened and something that smelled like happiness was pulled out. His face felt warm then, as he stared into oven, but it was over in a moment as the door closed again and all he could smell was food. 

He shakes his head. It’s never helped him to think about before he was here. It only ever makes him hurt inside, so he looks at the pictures he’s laid out on the ground in front of him and licks his lips, hoping it helps them stop feeling like they’re burning. 

\--

The room is almost completely dark around him, the lights only just bright enough for him to see where the file is on the ground, but it’s still so hot that sweat drips from his chin onto his shirt. 

He licks his lips again and tastes the salt on his skin. 

\--

“Can I have more water?” Svlad asks, standing by the door. He knows the cameras are everywhere, and there’s no difference in how well they can hear him just by where he’s standing, but it just feels right to stand by the door. 

“Those missing people didn’t have any water,” Mr. Priest replies through the speakers. “So you ain’t gettin’ any more until you solve this.” 

“But…” If Svlad had known he wasn’t getting more water, he would have drank it slower. 

“You’ll get water when you find them.” 

\-- 

Svlad looks through the files again, his fingers barely able to shuffle through the papers because of how dry they are, not that he can concentrate on the information through the pounding headache he has. 

If the lights are any indication, he’s been in the room for three days. He took off his jumpsuit and undershirt during the second day, but it’s still unbearably warm in just his underwear. The dirt and rocks on the floor cut into the skin of his thighs and feet, and feels like a bed of nails when he tries to lie down. 

He isn’t going to solve the case. He knows that now. Even if the universe wants him to be a detective, he’s clearly not capable of it. 

He looks at the empty bottle on the ground next to him. There isn’t any water left in it--he tried to get every remaining drop out of the bottle yesterday, but it only made him more thirsty. 

His eyes hurt, and it’s starting to be hard to breathe with how dehydrated he is. 

Svlad crawls to the door, too tired to care about the stones that stick to his knees and palms. 

“Please,” he whispers. “I… I can't solve it. Please let me out.”

He waits for an answer, pressing his cheek against the door to try and cool his skin, but it’s no use, the door is just as warm as everything else. 

“Don’t that family mean anything to you?” he hears Mr. Priest say. For a second he thinks the man is in the room with him, waiting to hurt him, but when Svlad turns around he’s alone. 

“They do. I want to find them, but--” 

“If you were a real detective, you’d find them. You’d put them above the things you want.” 

Svlad wants to cry but his eyes feel like there’s sand in them but there isn’t enough water in his body for tears. 

“You’re bein’ selfish, Icarus. I ain’t lettin’ you out until you find them.” 

\--

Svlad lies on the ground, his jumpsuit rolled into a ball beneath his head. His heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s in his throat. 

He digs his fingers into the dirt and tries to think about the missing family, but he can’t hold the information in his head long enough figure it out. 

\--

He’s dying. Svlad knows that. 

His lips are bleeding. His tongue feels like it’s covered in the sand on the ground. He can’t open his eyes anymore. 

There’s a scraping noise. Svlad doesn’t know what it is but he can’t see. 

Something cold slams into him, leaving him shivering. It’s followed by needles jabbing into him. 

It touches his lips and Svlad realizes it’s water. 

It… it couldn’t be raining in the room. 

His eyes open slowly, like they’re being peeled, and he sees Mr. Priest above him with a hose. 

Svlad opens his lips and tries to drink the water down, but his throat is glued shut. 

Mr. Priest crouches in front of him. 

“Shoulda known you weren’t a real detective,” Mr. Priest says, smiling down at him. 


	22. Friendly Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priest deals with a hostile project.

“How long till the containment teams are here?” Priest says, but there’s nothing in return from the comms but static. 

There have been disturbances for the last eighteen hours, the source of which is unknown, but several of the projects have reacted to it. 

Usually, protocol would be enough to keep the chaos in check. This time, the surveillance and communications systems are down and it’s making most of the staff run around like a flock of headless chickens. 

He checks on Incubus through the observation room connected to their cell. Martin stands near the one-way glass, pacing like a tiger in a cage, which would almost be cute if it wasn’t so pitiful. 

There aren’t any malfunctions with their cell, so he moves on. 

After he’s checked on Lamia and Bart (and told Bart he’ll talk to Riggins about letting her out for some playtime after the disturbances are over), he gets to Project Modi’s chambers. 

He keys in the code for Modi’s observation room, and verifies his identity through the retinal and fingerprint scanners. 

By most people’s standards, Modi would not be considered a threat. She looks like a young girl and, with her soft features and neatly braided hair, even Priest wouldn’t be surprised to see her playing on a swing set, but the truth of her existence is made clear by her jumpsuit and the shackles on her wrists and ankles. 

Usually, her eyes are closed, her mind in something like a trance, but today her eyes are open. 

Priest watches her through the observation window, grabbing her file. 

Modi has only woken up once since Priest has been with Blackwing. Priest wasn’t yet trusted to handle the more dangerous projects, but he’d read the reports on her. An agent had been killed trying to control Modi, and the base had been put on lockdown while she was moved to a new containment chamber. She looks the same now as in the photographs from that event, like time hasn’t passed for her. 

Modi screams, struggling against the chains to try and face Priest. Her face opens into a snarl as she pants, a pool of blood forming around her in spite of her lack of injuries. She pulls at her restraints again, and Priest can see the plates the chains are attached to are beginning to strain. 

“--Riest,” Riggins’ voice is nearly drowned out by the static, but Priest can just barely make out the words. “--Eport.”

“Modi is awake and don't look too pleased to see me. Her restraints ain't gonna last much longer.”

If Riggins responds, Priest can't hear it, and he's got bigger problems on his hands, since Modi has nearly torn the plates out of the floor. 

“Shit.”

Priest hits the alarm, hearing doors slam down outside the room, trapping both him and Modi. He just needs to keep her contained--or at least minimize the damage she causes--until the comms are back up. 

Modi screams again, and there’s a groaning noise as the plates attaching her chains to the floor are broken. She grabs each of the cuffs and snaps them apart before breaking the ankle cuffs as well. 

She glances at the observation room again, and Priest can see that her irises and pupils have completely vanished, leaving only the whites of her eyes showing. Past reports say that this is when Modi is at her most dangerous, and when her abilities are strongest. 

Priest pulls a lever next to the observation window and a reinforcement shield drops down over the window. It has two postcard-sized windows on the sides if he needs to keep an eye on Modi, but he knows it’s too late for that. 

There’s a metal table in the observation room which he props against the wall to give him a little more protection from her attacks. Usually, there’d be a riot shield for emergencies, but apparently some dipshit’s taken it. 

Priest unloads his gun, the sound of the bullets clattering to the floor drowned out by the window being shattered. He estimates he’s got about ninety seconds before Modi tears through the reinforcement shield, or under a minute if she decides to go through the wall, and he doesn’t want to be armed when she does. Modi’s file says she’s good with weapons, and happy to take anything from those she attacks, and he’d like to have all his limbs attached when this is over. 

He wraps the weapons in his jacket and hides it in a far corner behind a chair before taking cover behind the table just as Modi breaks through the shield with a roar. 

Modi crawls through the hole she’s broken in the shield, her feet hitting the floor quietly. 

Priest already has his hands up when she looks at him. “I ain’t gonna hurt you,” he says. 

Modi doesn’t reply--there’s no record of her speaking since she was brought in--she just steps closer to him, and Priest keeps his breathing as even as he can, his eyes cast downwards. 

“Don’t wanna make a fuss, just wanna keep us both calm--” 

A tiny hand grabs the front of his shirt and Priest finds himself being thrown forwards. He slams into the floor, rolling to his feet so he can try to back away from her. 

He feels the wall against his back, and Modi’s hand curls around his neck. She’s too small to lift him off the ground, so she shoves him into the wall. The observation room isn’t as reinforced as her chamber, the drywall breaking behind him. 

She thrusts a knee into Priest’s stomach, and takes hold of his hair as he bends forward. She throws him again, and this time he crashes through the wall into the hallway beyond. 

Priest falls to the ground, Modi on him in a second, her hands around his throat. 

There’s movement to his left, and Priest sees the barriers being lifted to reveal a containment team aiming its weapons at him. 

“Hold your f--” Priest tries to say, but it’s too late. The containment team fires, a hail of bullets raining down around him and Modi. Modi holds up a hand and most of the bullets stop in midair, but one lands in Priest’s thigh, another in his forearm. 

Modi moves her hand and the bullets fly back towards the containment team. Most of them hit body armor but one man falls to the ground with a shout, clutching his abdomen. 

Fucking morons. If they’d taken the time to read Modi’s file, they’d know better than to attack her directly instead of opening fire on her  _ again _ . The bullets are halted yet again, and fly back towards the men. This time, each bullet lands in flesh. 

It’s only then that someone puts their two brain cells together and grabs a tank of knockout gas. 

As white smoke billows towards them, Modi stands up and backs away. Priest stays on the floor, knowing that there’s nothing he can do to fight the gas either, especially with gunshot wounds. 

He watches Modi, who is glancing between him and the containment team. 

“Might as well not fight it,” Priest says to her. “Ain’t gonna do you any good.” 

The smoke has reached her now, and Modi presses herself against the far wall. 

Taking a deep breath, Priest can feel the gas calming him, making him want to obey and sleep. 

Modi bears her teeth at the gas, but her eyelids are beginning to droop, her muscles relaxing. She slides down the wall and curls up, gasping quietly. 

“Traitor,” she whispers, and collapses on the floor. 

Priest quirks an eyebrow, but doesn’t reply, instead taking his own advice and letting the gas put him to sleep. 


	23. Self-Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amanda worries about her boys.

Once upon a time, going five weeks without an attack would have been Amanda’s greatest wish. She’d spent so long trapped at home, wanting nothing more than to be free of the illness that had robbed her of her life. 

Once upon a time, she had prayed to get better, like she believed Todd had. 

But now, attacks are something different to her. They’re still painful and terrifying, but her boys keep her safe. Amanda looks back on the years before she met them and wonders how she survived it all: the loneliness, the hopelessness, the fear. 

After she met Dirk and her boys, after she found out that they could feed on her during attacks, it felt… almost like she had a purpose. Like pararibulitis wasn’t just a curse, but something she could use to help people she cared about. 

Amanda sighs, staring into the bonfire at the center of their camp. Vogel is curled up with Beastie, telling her a story about a little boy going on an adventure in a forest. Martin and Gripps are lying down on the opposite side of the fire and exchanging kisses while they whisper to each other. 

She hears footsteps behind her, and turns to see Cross walking up, a beer in each hand. 

“Hey, Drummer.” 

“Hey.” Amanda moves over on her blanket and pats it in invitation. Cross sits beside her, leaning in to kiss her hair before he settles down. 

Cross offers her one of the beers and Amanda takes it before shifting to sit in his lap. 

“What’s wrong?” Cross asks, wrapping an arm around her. 

There’s no point in pretending she’s fine, not when Cross can smell her emotions. 

“You guys haven’t had anything to eat in weeks.” 

Cross holds her tighter, pressing his lips to her cheek. “We’ve gone longer without food.” 

“But…” Amanda turns to him, can see how tired he looks. All of her boys seem tired. Vogel hasn’t been as energetic as usual, Martin hasn’t told them to move on from their campsite even though they’ve been here for almost a week. “I’m here to--” 

“You aren’t here to feed us, Drummer. If we were that desperate, we’d find someone to feed on. Call up that British guy or something.” 

“Doesn’t that make me kind of useless?” 

“You think that’s why you’re here? To be useful?” 

Amanda shrugs. She spent a long time feeling useless, and having a purpose feels good. 

“You’re here because you’re one of the Rowdy 3. ‘Cause we like you. Wouldn’t keep you around if you were only for food.” He nuzzles her hair. “You don’t only stay with us ‘cause we help when your brain goes crazy, do you?” 

Martin and Gripps have stopped kissing to look up at her. Vogel’s paused his story as well, Beastie standing behind him and playing with his hair.

“Of course not. You guys are… You’re my boys. My family.” 

“And if we couldn’t help with your crazy brain anymore?” 

“I’d still stay.” 

“See? Not about being useful.” 

Cross holds her close, the others all standing up and sitting with them. Vogel flops against Amanda’s side while Beastie fusses over him for moving while she was doing his hair. Martin and Gripps both kiss her when they sit down. 

“Eww!” Vogel wails. “That’s so gross, guys!” 

Amanda sticks her tongue out at him and kisses his nose. Vogel flails and hides his face in Martin’s chest. 

“We’re fine, Drummer girl. We ain’t gonna go hungry,” Martin says, patting Vogel on the head. 

“I could… We could induce an attack if you want--” Amanda offers. 

“That never works!” Vogel says, his voice muffled by Martin’s shirt. “You’re not scared of anything.” 

That’s not really true. Amanda’s just… not scared of her boys. 

“We’re fine,” Martin tells her, moving a little closer. 

It’s nice, having all her boys and Beastie touching her at the same time, not having to fear a moment when it suddenly turns to pain and terror. Even when the fire begins to pop, the wood collapsing into a pile with a burst of sparks and she feels the blaze burn onto her hands, she knows her boys will be there for her.


	24. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd and Dirk attend a Catholic mass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains homophobia.

“We'll have to go inside,” Dirk says, running up the steps of the church after the shadow creatures they’ve been following for several blocks.

“Dirk, I--”

Todd hesitates, staring at the doors, the designs on them familiar, even if he’s never seen it before. 

“Todd!” Dirk shouts ahead of him. “Shadow creatures! Case! Losing them!” 

He shakes his head and takes the last few steps. Dirk is already inside, so Todd pauses a moment before entering as well. 

Dirk is hovering just inside the vestibule. Todd would have squawked at the sudden holistic detective whispering questions beside him, but the scent of the incense is like a gag on his lips, keeping him quiet. 

Todd shushes Dirk and waves a hand, telling Dirk to come with him and sit in the back pew. 

The church is nearly empty, which is something of a blessing because Dirk is on his hands and knees between the pews, looking for the shadow creatures. 

“Please stand,” a man says behind them before an organ begins to play, and Todd stands on instinct. The procession begins to pass and Todd stares at the crucifix that’s being carried towards the altar. 

He jumps when someone clears their throat next to him, and he looks over to see the priest standing by their pew, sneering down at Dirk, who still has his ass in the air while he reaches for something in front of him. 

“Dirk!” Todd whispers, giving his foot a little kick. 

Dirk yelps, banging his head on the feet of the kneeler, and stands up. 

“Sorry,” Todd mutters. 

“Sorry,” Dirk repeats. “I just… dropped my…” 

The priest has already walked away. 

“I almost had it!” Dirk whispers. “Why did you kick me?” 

“They were…” Todd pauses, realizing he doesn't know the answer. He’d panicked at the sight of the priest staring at him. 

“They were what?” Dirk asks, but Todd just shakes his head. The hymn is over, and the church has gone quiet as the priest speaks. He spent too many years being yelled at by Father Thomas for looking tired or bored during mass to explain things to Dirk right now. 

“We’ll have to stay here for now,” he whispers as they sit down for the readings. “We’ll find the shadow creatures after the mass.” 

Dirk nods, but Todd can see how confused he looks out of the corner of his eye. He grabs them both a missalette. Dirk opens his to the beginning so Todd takes it and flips to the correct page. 

He sees Dirk looking around during the readings, still searching for the shadow creatures, but Todd can’t bring himself to look away from the missalette, to do anything that could be seen as misbehaving. 

That doesn’t stop Dirk from fidgeting through the psalm, and spending most of the second reading looking around for the shadow creatures. Even when the priest is reading the gospel, he keeps checking his watch and staring at the ceiling. 

Todd feels the burn of the priest’s gaze on them when he finishes reading. 

“Before I begin the homily,” the priest says when everyone begins to sit down, “I’d like to remind the congregation that this time is for God. Our focus should be on the Lord, not on our watches.” 

Several people follow the man’s gaze to them, and Todd wishes he could disappear. 

The priest begins his homily and Todd relaxes a little as Dirk sits still. They’re nearly halfway done, and then he can get out and not be here anymore. 

Dirk shifts a little, but this time it’s only to grab Todd’s hand. Todd glances at him and sees how he’s staring ahead now, his eyes wide as his grip tightens.  

Todd listens to what the priest is saying and understands Dirk’s discomfort. 

“--We must reject the sin that the devil has tempted us with. We may be called bigots, but we know that homosexuality is against God’s law, against all human nature.”

He squeezes Dirk’s hand, wondering if he knew this was a thing. Todd can’t imagine that Dirk went to many Catholic masses while he was growing up, but Todd’s own childhood was filled with Sunday masses. 

When he thinks back to it, Todd wonders how much of his lying was caused by the church. His parents loved him, he knew that, but he’d started looking at other boys the way he looked at girls when he was a teenager, and had known that it was wrong. 

He had wanted so badly not to have to hear about the evils of being, well,  _ himself _ that he looked for any excuse not to have to be around his parents and once he could use pararibulitis to get out of going to church, he found he could use it to get extra allowance. It all snowballed from there, and before long he was lying about everything. 

Todd closes his eyes for a moment. He can’t just blame the church for what he did-- _ he  _ lied,  _ he  _ did things wrong. 

“Todd?” Dirk whispers, his hand trembling in Todd’s. 

“This culture of death is poisoning our society. If we allow this poison to flourish, God will strike us down!” 

He’s heard it all before. That he’s a sinner, just because he wants to spend his life with another man. 

It’s not like he asked for it, not like it was a choice, despite what the priest says, but he’s still supposed to go to hell for something he can’t control. 

Todd tries to take a deep breath, to calm himself down a little until the sermon is over, but water rushes into his mouth instead. He chokes on it, water spilling from his nose and mouth. 

“Todd!” 

Dirk wraps an arm around him, his free hand reaching into his pocket. 

“Todd, you’re having an attack.” 

He can feel his lungs filling with water even as he chokes most of it up.

Dirk ‘s hand touches his mouth as he gives Todd his meds. It’s hard to swallow past the water, but he manages before he gags again. 

Todd looks up. The priest has gone silent, and the rest of the congregation is staring at them. 

“Come on,” Dirk says, lifting him off of the pew. He half-carries Todd out of the church and helps him sit on the steps outside. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” Todd replies, panting. “Was… I think it was holy water.” 

Dirk rubs his back. “But… you seemed not really okay before the attack as well.” 

Shrugging, Todd leans against Dirk. “My parents took me to church as a kid.”

“Is it always like that?” 

“Not always, but… a lot of the time.” 

Dirk kisses his cheek. 

“Sorry,” Todd says. “I don’t think we’ll be catching those shadow creatures.” 

“That’s alright--” Dirk says, but he’s interrupted by a noise behind them.

They both turn around and see a goat standing behind them, holding a shadow creature in its mouth. The shadow creature wriggles out of the goat’s mouth, but the goat turns into a birdcage and traps it again. 

Todd smiles. “Thank you, Mona.” 

The birdcage sparkles a little in response. Dirk picks it up and rests it in his lap, poking a finger through the bars and then jumping when the shadow creature swats at him. 

“Do you… think he’s right about… us?” Dirk asks. When Todd doesn’t respond, he continues. “Colonel Riggins told me that… I was unnatural, when I said I was interested in boys. He said I’d turn out like Mr. Priest.” 

Todd wraps and arm around Dirk’s shoulders. “You didn’t turn out like him.” 

Dirk smiles shakily. “I don’t think you’re going to hell for this. If… If you were created by God or the Universe or whatever, it wouldn’t make you something you shouldn’t be.” 

The universe doesn’t talk to him the way it does with Dirk, but it led them to each other, wanted them to be together. If it was so terrible for him to love Dirk, they would never have met. 

“Hey,” Todd says, smiling. “You think one of us could hold onto the shadow creature?” 

“Yes?” 

The cage opens up and Dirk reaches in, pulling the shadow creature out and holding it against his chest. 

“Mona,” Todd says. “Think you could do me a little favor?” 

They stay on the church steps until the mass is over and, when the priest walks back outside, Todd is holding a giant rainbow Mona flag while kissing Dirk. 


	25. Restraints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colonel Riggins observes a new project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains torture and vivisection.

Project Abbadon is strapped down, one of the only ways that those working on him can be fairly assured of their safety. Anyone else would be screaming, begging for mercy, or unconscious from the pain, but Abbadon has never been quite normal. 

One of his hands is bandaged, the nails having been torn from their beds. The other hand was kept intact for the IV drip, although anaesthetic only ever slows him down.

Riggins watches from the safety of the observation room. Abbadon sighs as his ribs are broken, watches with drooping eyelids as organs are removed and placed into sterile containers. 

Abbadon hums quietly, glancing at the one-way glass. He knows he’s being watched, and when he begins to speak, Riggins isn’t surprised. 

“These boys are amateurs,” Abbadon drawls. “I could do a better job.” 

Riggins refuses to be goaded into entertaining Abbadon, especially when they’re after information. 

Abbadon was captured almost a month ago, after a year of observation. During that time, they’d discovered his brother was also an anomalous entity. The brother had escaped their grasp, but they’d managed to trap Abbadon. Riggins’ superiors want research done on  _ why _ the Priest boys are strange, and, while they can’t do testing on the boys’ parents, they can at least find out what makes Abbadon tick. 

Abbadon sighs as the technicians take measurements of his body, of the pieces of him they’ve removed. 

“You really think this is the best way to use me?” he asks. “Cut me apart and see how I work?” 

He pulls at the restraints, one of the technicians stepping back slowly as Abbadon smiles at them. 

“Sir?” the lead tech says. “Permission to use emergency measures?” 

The straps are straining against Abbadon’s movements, and even if he isn’t capable of breaking out of them, he could cause himself permanent damage by attempting. There’s no guarantee anything will work on him, as every subject has unique weaknesses, but Riggins would prefer to avoid losing a subject after so little testing has been done. 

“Granted.” 

Abbadon rolls his eyes, but stops struggling as he’s injected with another chemical. The effects are almost immediate: his muscles begin to go limp, his eyes rolling back into his head. 

\--

Several hours later, Abbadon has been moved to a post-op observation chamber. 

Riggins watches him wake up and pull at the restraints again before he lies back against the gurney. 

“I know you’re watchin’ me,” Abbadon says. “I know I ain’t got any bargainin’ power, and I ain’t the kind of man to grovel, but we both know I’d be a better tool for you if you didn’t lock me up.” He turns his head towards the glass. “And if I get bored ‘cause you don’t give me anything fun to do, I  _ will  _ leave.”

“We captured you once,” Riggins replies through the microphone. 

Abbadon laughs at that. “You think I didn’t know about that little trap you set for me? You think I didn’t see it comin’ a mile off? I  _ let  _ you find me. I  _ let  _ you capture me.” 

“My superiors will want proof before I let you loose on the world.” 

“I can find my sweet little baby brother,” Abbadon says. “Can get those two freaks he calls his friends, as well.” 

“Two freaks?” 

Scoffing, Abbadon shakes his head. “Y’all really are amateurs.” 

Riggins doesn’t let the frustration with their lack of intel distract him. Abbadon is offering him something they both know he needs. 

Deciding to take a risk, he leaves the observation room. 

“I want teams of guards on either side of this corridor,” he says into his comms.

The men posted outside Abbadon’s room shift nervously. “Sir, are you sure this is--” one of them begins to say, but Riggins cuts him off with a look. 

“It isn’t your place to question me,” he tells them before he inputs his code in the keypad beside the door. The men raise their guns as the door opens, and Riggins steps in alone. 

“Well, hello there,” Abbadon says, smiling. 

“I want to make a few things very clear.” Riggins stands next to the gurney, looking down at Abbadon. “We will not hesitate to put you down if you try anything. Even if you do succeed at capturing your brother, I will not guarantee that you won’t be placed back into our custody afterwards.” 

“I think your superiors will find I’m more useful when I’m free.” 

“We’ll see. Once you’ve recovered, we’ll need you to sign some forms, then your Project title will be retired.” 

Riggins pulls the key to Abbadon’s handcuffs from his pocket and undoes one side of it. When Abbadon doesn’t attack, Riggins holds out a hand. 

“Welcome on board, Mr. Priest.” 


	26. Broken Ribs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Project Incubus waits for Martin to return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic contains mentions and aftermath of torture.

“When will Martin be back?” Vogel asks. 

Gripps exchanges a glance with Cross. 

“Soon, hopefully,” Gripps replies. Martin’s been gone for 7181 minutes. It’s not the longest he’s ever been parted from them, but it is the longest he’s been away since Vogel arrived. 

“I miss him.” 

Cross holds open his arms and Vogel walks over to where Cross is sitting to hug him and tuck his head under Cross’s chin. “We do too, little bird.” 

Vogel frowns and reaches out for Gripps’ hand. He plays with his fingers, straightening them out and folding his hand into a puppet shape. 

“Heya, baby bird,” Vogel says in a deep voice, opening and closing Gripps’ fingers like they’re talking. “It’s me, Martin.” 

Cross ruffles Vogel’s hair. “What do you think Martin would say right now, if he was here?” 

Vogel considers for a moment, then makes Gripps’ fingers “talk” again. 

“Sorry, kiddo. It’s baby bird bedtime.” 

They both chuckle at that. “That’s absolutely right,” Gripps says. 

“Do I have to go to bed? I wanna be awake when Martin comes back.” 

“He’ll be proud to see you sleeping.” 

Vogel plays with Gripps’ hand a little more. “Can I stay here?” 

“‘Course.” 

Cross wraps his arms around Vogel, setting the boy on his lap, while Gripps gets a blanket for him, which he drapes over the boy. 

“You guys won’t go, will you?” 

“We’ll stay right here,” Gripps tells him, kissing Vogel’s mop of black hair. 

Vogel holds onto both of them as they tell him a story, his eyelids drooping until he falls asleep. 

\--

There’s an unspoken rule between them, that they try not to talk about any of them dying, especially with Vogel around. Blackwing is terrifying enough for a six year old without worrying about death every time one of them is taken away. 

But Cross reaches out for Gripps once Vogel is asleep and limp in his arms, fear unmistakeable in his touch. 

They cling to one another until they’ve both drifted off to sleep. 

\--

The outer door screeching open wakes them both up. Vogel shifts in his sleep but Cross holds tighter to him and rubs his back to calm him as Gripps stands up, ready to fight if anyone tries to take another of them away. It finally slams shut again and the inner door opens, revealing a figure in a straightjacket, a black bag over their face. 

Gripps would think it was Icarus with how they’re slumped over, but their size and the colors of the jumpsuit makes it clear that it’s Martin. 

He doesn’t wait for the doors to open fully before he’s at Martin’s side, pulling the bag off his head as carefully as he can. 

Martin’s skin is pale and dotted with bruises. His eyes flutter as he looks back at Gripps. 

“What happened?” Gripps asks. 

“O-Osmund,” Martin replies simply. 

It’s more than enough answer for him. Martin’s brother is cruel to every project in Blackwing, but he seems to find special pleasure in hurting Martin, always leaving him more injured than anyone else. 

Gripps wraps his arms around Martin so he can undo the buckles on the straightjacket, and Martin leans against him, trembling. He’s more practiced than he’d like to be at undoing straightjackets without looking, but Gripps doesn’t mind if it means Martin is freed sooner. 

He pulls the jacket off as gently as he can, leaving it between the sets of doors, and carries Martin into their cell. Martin clings to his jumpsuit, holding tight until Gripps rests him on the floor, making sure his head is on the soft pillow. 

“Can I look?” he asks, holding Martin’s hand. 

Martin squeezes his hand once.  _ Yes _ . 

Gripps unbuttons Martin’s jumpsuit and opens it, seeing bandages underneath. He would be grateful that Martin was brought to medical, but it’s Osmund’s fault-- _ Blackwing’s  _ fault--that Martin was hurt in the first place. 

He listens to Cross moving, and sees him walk over with Vogel. 

Martin watches, reaching out as Cross sits down beside him. 

“Hey, Marty,” Cross whispers, taking Martin’s hand. 

Martin runs his thumb over Cross’s knuckles. “Did he--Is Vogel--”

“He’s fine. Just sleeping.” 

There’s relief in Martin’s eyes, and Gripps wonders what Osmund threatened to do to Vogel. 

Gripps checks over Martin’s wounds. He feels down Martin’s sides and Martin gasps. 

“Broken rib,” Gripps says, and Martin nods. 

“Fuckin’ bastards said I didn’t need any painkillers.” 

Cross growls. “Someday we’ll get out of here and eat them all on the way out.” 

Martin squeezes his hand. 

There’s nothing that Gripps can do for Martin that wasn’t done already, so he gets one of the warmest blankets they have and drapes it over him. “You should rest,” he says. 

“Stay with me?” Martin reaches out for him and holds onto him and Cross. “Don’t… Don’t wanna be alone right now.” 

Gripps kisses the back of his hand. “Of course.” 

Cross settles on the floor beside Martin, resting Vogel down between them. Gripps gets them the other pillow before he curls up as well. 

“Missed you,” Martin says. 

Cross kisses him. “We missed you too.” 

\--

Gripps is woken by Martin crying out in pain. He fears that Osmund has come into their cell to continue Martin’s torture, but when he opens his eyes, he sees Vogel scrambling away. 

“I’m sorry!” Vogel says. “Please don’t--I’m sorry!” His eyes are wide as he backs away from them, pressing himself against the far wall. 

Martin moans quietly, clutching his chest. 

Gripps stands up and walks over to Vogel. Vogel cowers away from him. 

“I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!” Vogel’s eyes are bright with tears. “Please…” 

Gripps crouches a couple feet from the boy, smelling his terror. 

“I won’t hurt you, little bird, I promise.” 

Vogel whimpers. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“I know. Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

Vogel shakes his head, tears wetting his cheeks. 

“What happened?” 

“I woke up and I saw that Martin was back and I wanted to hug him but he didn’t like it and I didn’t mean to--” 

Gripps holds open his arms and Vogel shuffles forward to hug him. 

“Vogel,” Martin says behind them. “I’m… I’m okay. Just got hurt the other day.” 

“I’m sorry.” Vogel pulls away from Gripps and walks over to where Martin is lying down, Cross sitting beside him. “If you don’t want hugs, I won’t--”

“I do want hugs.” 

“Just gotta give gentle hugs right now, baby bird,” Cross explains. 

Vogel kneels down and wraps his arms around Martin. Gripps doesn’t think he actually touches Martin anywhere, but Martin wraps one arm around him and pulls him the final inch closer. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Vogel whispers.

Martin rubs his back. “I know you didn’t mean to.” 

Vogel sits back up and holds Martin’s hand. “Are you going to be okay? Will they take you away again?” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

They’d all like to promise not to be separated again, but they know they couldn’t keep it. 

“We’ll take care of you!” Vogel says. “You always take care of me! Right, guys?” 

“Yeah!” Cross ruffles Vogel’s hair and grins. 

“I’ll be you, Martin! I’ll tell you that it’s bedtime and give you hugs,” Vogel decides. 

“That sounds perfect, baby bird.” 

“No, I’m Martin now! You’re baby bird.” 

Martin laughs. “Okay, Martin,” he says. “What should we do now?” 

Vogel hums before he mimics Martin’s voice like he did before they slept. “It’s baby bird bedtime, kiddo,” he says. “You need a good night hug?” 

“Yes, Martin,” Martin replies. 

Vogel gives him another gentle hug and kisses Martin’s forehead. “We’ll keep you safe, baby bird. Ain’t no one gonna hurt you while we’re here.” 

“I bet getting a hug all night will help… Vogel feel better,” Gripps says. 

“Can I have hug all night?” Martin asks. 

“‘Course, baby bird!” 

Vogel settles beside Martin, and hugs him gently. “Feel better, baby bird.” 

Martin kisses Vogel’s head, his eyes already drooping. Gripps and Cross lie down on either side of Martin and Vogel. 

They can’t promise safety, or even that they’ll all live to see the next day, but Gripps knows they’ll be together as long as they are able to hold one another close. Their love won’t be broken, even by the tortures of Blackwing. 


	27. "I Can't Walk"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd and Dirk are rescued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mentions and aftermath of torture.

The door opens, but Todd’s too exhausted to look up. He knows it’s Priest, knows that this is just the beginning of another torture session. The last one ended with an induced attack, and no medication. Todd had been too out of it to know whether the Priest who was breaking his fingers or the Priest who was cutting him open was real. 

The world feels fuzzy around him, like it’s all an attack, all a nightmare that will be over once he wakes up. He doesn’t know if that’s from the IV in his hand.

Todd’s eyelids droop. Maybe he can sleep through whatever Priest wants to do to him. Maybe he can sleep and not wake up. 

Someone touches his face, pulling Todd back to wakefulness. 

“Todd?” 

He opens his eyes, and shuts them again the second he sees Amanda in front of him. 

It’s just an attack, just his brain tricking him into having some hope that he and Dirk will be rescued. 

“Todd, wake up--” 

“He ain’t doin’ too good, Drummer.” 

“We gotta get him outta here before he--” 

Something touches his abdomen and Todd whimpers when it feels like something moves inside of him. He risks opening his eyes again and sees blood spilling from his stomach. He doesn’t know if it’s another attack or Priest cutting him open, he’s too tired to think about it now, the pain and fear overtaking him. 

There’s a bright light in front of him. He doesn’t know what it is, but it seems to take away some of the pain. 

Except it also takes what’s left of his strength. Todd’s body feels heavy, and he stops fighting to hold his head up. 

Amanda’s face enters his vision again. 

“Todd, it’s me. It’s Amanda. We’re--We’re here to rescue you, me and the Rowdies and Farah.”

Todd blinks at her. 

“Dirk…” 

“We’re getting him out too.” 

Something flashes in his hand and he realizes she’s holding a knife. Todd tries to get away from it, but he can’t move his limbs. 

Amanda slips the knife between his wrists and the tape that’s keeping him bound, cutting it away. 

One of the Rowdies--the one with the glasses who seems to be their leader--pulls the needle from Todd’s hand, wrapping bandaging around the wound before he can bleed anymore. 

Amanda hugs him for a second. She used to smell so familiar, her shampoo and soap almost like home to him, like a memory of the days before he lied to her, to before he ruined everything. But now Amanda smells like leather and gasoline and sweat, and it’s so wrong that Todd can’t help believing that this might be real, that Amanda really did find him. 

Todd is too exhausted to hug her back, but he presses his face into her shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re… I’m glad you’re still here. I still gotta beat the shit out of you for lying to me.” 

“Think you’re gonna have to wait,” Todd mumbles. “It’s not fun beating up a guy who’s already beat up.” 

She laughs a little. “Think you can walk?” she asks, pulling away. 

Todd shakes his head. 

“I got ‘im, Drummer,” the Rowdy says before lifting Todd out of the chair and tossing him over a shoulder. 

Being jostled makes Todd hurt more, and he doesn’t feel any need to stay awake, so he lets himself pass out.

\--

When Todd wakes up, he’s lying on a small pile of blankets. 

A face enters his vision. “Wakeytime!” 

Todd jumps, but the face smiles at him from behind its sunglasses. He sees colorful hair, and realizes it’s the rainbow monster from Wendimoor. 

“Hiyo Bibbitfend!” 

“H-Hello?” 

“You’re awake!” another voice says, and the youngest of the Rowdies joins the rainbow monster above him. “Boss said you needed to sleep. They went back inside though.” 

“Inside?” Todd looks past them and sees a grey building outside. He recognizes it from when they were kidnapped by Blackwing. “Where’s Dirk?” 

“That British guy? He’s still inside. They’re gonna get him too.” 

As if on cue, there’s a racket outside. Amanda, Farah, and the other Rowdies are pulling something between them and, as they stop outside the van, Todd sees it’s a gurney. 

Something moves out from underneath him and Mona runs past. 

“Dirk!” she says. 

“He’s okay,” Farah tells her, “we just didn’t want to move him in case…” 

They wrestle the gurney into the van and Mona becomes a blanket on top of Dirk, leaving just enough space for everyone else to squeeze into the van. Todd sits as close to Dirk as he can. 

He’s wearing the same jumpsuit as the last time he escaped Blackwing, but this time the top is open, and bandages cover his chest. 

Dirk’s eyes flutter open. “Todd,” he says. “You’re… alright?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Mr. Priest said…” 

“He was lying.” 

Dirk’s mouth quirks into a weak smile. 

The van’s engine starts, rumbling beneath them. 

“Wait!” Dirk says. “Stop! Not… Not yet.” 

“We gotta get outta here!” one of the Rowdies shouts. 

“Please. I… We have to wait.” Dirk looks at Amanda, his eyes hazy. “Please.” 

Amanda looks at him for a moment before nodding. “We’ll wait as long as we can,” she says. 

“Won’t be much--” Dirk says, but he’s interrupted by knocking on the van door. 

Farah stands up, getting her gun out. She grabs the door latch and shoves it open. 

“Woah!” someone says outside. “You gotta be careful! You almost hit me!” 

“Bart!?” Farah says. 

Bart looks into the van. “You’re--You’re that lady! The stabby one! And--” She glances around. “Hi, Dirk. Are you okay?” 

“Not really,” he answers. “But… I think the universe wants you to come with us,” he tells her. 

She looks at the ground. “I… don’t wanna break your nice things.” 

“I don’t think you will, but… you have to come with us now. We need to leave before--” 

Bart grabs Farah’s gun out of her hand and spins around, firing it several times. Todd hears shouts outside, and bodies falling. 

“Um.” Bart looks at the gun in her hand like she hadn’t realized she was holding it. “I think this is yours,” she says, and hands it back to Farah. 

“Do you want to come along?” Dirk asks. 

Bart nods. “I think… I think I do. Ken’s not fun to be around anymore, and Mr. Priest isn’t either.” 

She doesn’t notice that most of them flinch at that name, but Bart climbs in and sits on the gurney next to Dirk’s feet. 

“Welcome,” Dirk slurs, his eyes closing. 

Todd runs a hand through his hair, trying to help him sleep. 

“You guys like ice cream?” Bart asks as they drive out of the complex. 


	28. Severe Illness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas has fallen ill.

He has to come in the dead of night, when the Dengdamors won’t see him. It’s easy now, when a sickness has spread over Inglenook leaving Dengdamors and Trosts alike bedridden. Several of the sentry towers are empty, and those who remain are tired and unobservant.  

Panto sneaks through the palace grounds until he finds the open window that leads to Silas’s chambers, beneath which is a trellis. Bubblegum flowers bloom upon it. Panto brushes his fingers over the paper-thin leaves of one, and the flower twists and blooms to show the soft pink of its petals. Panto doesn’t pluck out its fruit, as tempting as it is. The spring bloom of bubblegum flowers was smaller than ever before, after a field of crops was burnt by the Kellum knights and a disease killed off many other plants.  

He tests the trellis bars to see if they will hold his weight and, once confident they will, he begins to climb up to Silas’s window. 

Panto avoids crushing any of the bubblegum flowers as he goes, although he can smell how sweet they are. He can remember, the first time he held Silas in his arms, how his beloved had the same scent as the flowers and, when they kissed, there was a hint of them on his lips as well. 

When he reaches the apex, Panto places one hand on the masonwork to pull himself up, and feels a hand wrap around his wrist. He’s about to greet his darling when a man looks down through the window. The light of the moon shines upon him and Panto sees the man is not Silas, but his protector, Wygar Oak. 

“Why have you come here?” Wygar asks him. “You think you can attack the prince when he is struck by illness?” 

Wygar grabs his wrist tighter and pulls Panto’s hand off the bricks, and his other hand and feet slip off the trellis. The man holds him out far enough that he can’t reach it again. 

“Trost scum. You shall not harm the prince.” 

“No!” Panto says. “I would never hurt Silas! I love him! Please, I only wanted to see him!” 

In the still of night, he hears a voice that’s nearly as quiet as a butterfly’s wings, but his heart brims with love. 

“Panto? Panto, my love.” 

Silas appears in the window beside Wygar. He places a hand on Wygar’s arm. 

“You mustn’t… mustn’t hurt him,” Silas says. 

“You should not be standing,” Wygar replies. 

“I’ll lie down when I know my darling is safe.” 

Wygar’s face twists with displeasure but he relents, and allows Panto to climb in through the window. 

His feet touch the floor and Silas drifts sideways. Panto only just manages to catch him before he topples to the ground. He kneels on the ground, cupping Silas’s cheek in one hand. 

“Silas?” 

Silas blinks a few times and looks blearily at Panto. 

“My sweet,” he says. “You came to me. I missed you so.” 

“Of course I did. You are… You are very ill, my love,” Panto replies, rubbing his thumb over Silas’s cheek, feeling the heat of the fever on his skin. “You  _ should _ be in bed.” 

Wygar clears his throat and shoves Panto aside so he can lift Silas off the floor. 

Trying to make himself useful, Panto turns down the bed and pulls the covers back up when Silas is settled. 

Silas reaches out for him, and Panto takes his hand, cradling it between his own. He presses kisses to Silas’s skin, wishing he could take the illness from his love, suffer in place of him. 

“I have brought you something,” he says, pulling a small sachet filled with mint and lavender from his pocket. Panto folds Silas’s hand around it. 

Silas looks at it. “I’m afraid I cannot smell anything, but I appreciate it, my love.” He turns the sachet over and smiles. Panto embroidered a small pink heart into one corner, with an ‘S’ inside. 

“You are forever in my heart,” he says, leaning in to kiss Silas’s cheek. 

“You will not kiss me properly?” Silas asks. 

“No,” Panto replies. “But I shall kiss you properly the moment you are well again. It is an incentive.” 

Panto kisses Silas’s forehead apologetically, and because he cannot resist further contact. 

He stays by his love’s side until the sun begins to brighten the sky. 

“I must leave you now,” he says,“or my father will notice my absence.” 

Silas nods with understanding. Their greatest wish is to be able to be together, to end the secrecy of their love. 

“I will visit every night until you are well, I swear it to you.” Panto embraces him. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, my darling,” Silas replies. 

His eyelids droop as he lies down, and Panto pulls his blankets up to his chin. Silas falls asleep before he even stands up. 

Wygar grabs Panto’s arm as he walks to the window. 

“I must speak with you,” he growls, dragging Panto to the corner furthest from Silas. “I did not know the lover he was meeting in secret was a Trost.” 

“We had no choice but to hide our love,” Panto replies. 

“It does not matter to me that you are a Trost. However, if you ever hurt him--” 

“I can assure you, Wygar Oak, that nothing you do to me could ever bring me more pain that hurting my beloved. I want nothing more than to bring him happiness.” 

Wygar’s expression remains severe, but Panto believes he can see a glint of approval in his eye. 

He nods and climbs out the window into the dawn.

\--

Panto keeps his word, visiting Silas every night. It is exhausting, but well worth it. Despite how weak he is with illness, Silas smiles every time he sees Panto. 

“Darling?” Silas rasps on the eighth night. He has been unable to rise from his bed for two days, and has developed a cough that breaks Panto's heart to hear.  

“Yes, my love?” 

“Why have you not fallen ill? Am I so weak…” 

Panto runs his fingers down Silas’s cheek. “You are not weak at all, dearest.” 

“But I am still afflicted by this sickness.” He clutches at Panto’s sleeve. “I… I am afraid, Panto.” Silas presses one of Panto’s hands to his own cheek, nuzzling it. “I do not want to be taken from you.” 

Panto holds him until the sunrise, but the words haunt him for that night, and into the next day. He has heard tell of deaths caused by the illness. He cannot allow his beloved to be counted among that number. 

\--

He does not sleep when he returns home, instead pacing his room with nerves. No one has been able to find a source of the illness, or a cure. 

Panto sits at the small table in his bedchamber, and pulls some parchment and a quill from the drawer. He begins to write out everything he knows of the illness, and a list of all those he knows have been afflicted.

After several hours, when his hand is beginning to ache, he sits back. He has been able to find no answers, only more questions. 

A scent drifts through his room, and he turns to look at the small bubblegum bush he grows. It is one of the few spared by the disease. Panto considers its fruit a guilty pleasure. 

He touches one of the leaves and the flower unfurls for him.

As Panto tastes the fruit upon his tongue, he glances down at the parchment, and an answer begins to form in his mind. 

\--

“My love,” Panto says.

Silas's eyelids flutter for a moment, never opening fully. “My darling.” His lips barely move as he speaks. “I have missed you.” 

“And I you, my sweet.” 

There is no reply. Silas goes limp, his breath shaking. 

“He has little strength left,” Wygar tells him. He stands beside Silas’s bed like a mountain, his worry unmistakable. 

“I believe I have found the source of the ailment, but I must know, has he consumed any bubblegum fruit of late?” 

“Not since the crops were destroyed.” 

“Not even from the plant outside his window?” 

Wygar frowns. “He has forbidden anyone from eating from it.” 

Panto reaches into his pocket for the vial he brought from his home. “I have the juice of a flower here. My sister was beginning to fall ill as well, and improved greatly after she drank of it.” 

“I do not think he can drink.” 

Panto cannot disagree. Silas is limp in his bed, and does not rouse when Panto shakes him gently. 

“Help me to prop him up,” he says. 

Wygar steps closer, and lifts Silas up with surprising gentleness. Panto tries to stack the two pillows so they can hold Silas in a sitting position, but they are not enough. 

“I will hold him, if you do not think it is improper,” he says. 

“I do not care about that if it saves his life.” 

Panto nods and slips onto the bed behind Silas. Wygar leans Silas against his chest. 

“My darling,” Panto says. “I do not know if you are able to hear me. If you can gather your strength, only enough to drink this, I believe it will rid you of this sickness.” 

He uncorks the vial and raises it to Silas’s lips. He pours the liquid as slowly as he can, pausing when Silas begins to cough. 

“Please, beloved. You must drink.” His voice shakes as he speaks. 

When Silas’s breath has evened, he tips the vial again, holding his own breath as he does. 

This time, Silas swallows without incident. 

When the vial is empty, Wygar assists Panto in helping Silas lie down again. 

“We can do nothing now but wait,” Panto says after Silas has a coughing fit. “If this does not work…” 

“If it does not work we will continue to search,” Wygar tells him. 

\--

Panto cannot bring himself to leave Silas’s side, even after the sun has risen above the mountains. 

He must hide in the dressing room when a servant comes to check on Silas, but Wygar sends the servant away. 

When the shadows have receded and the birds have sung their wakefulness, Silas shifts under his blankets, his eyes opening slowly. 

“My love,” he says, raising his fingers minutely. 

Panto kneels beside him, taking his hand. “My darling. How are you feeling?” 

Silas smiles weakly. “Improved.” 

There is no denying the tears that gather in Panto’s eyes, his chest aching with relief as he leans in to kiss his beloved. 


	29. Seizure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Project Lamia makes a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story contains mentions of child abuse and torture.

The first time Lamia met Svlad, he was crying. Lamia had been a moth. Being a moth was fun, seeing all the pretty lights and fluttering through the air. One room was lit and had a new design on the door, so Lamia had decided to see what was inside. 

It was easier to crawl underneath the doors as an ant, and faster to walk as a bunny once Lamia was inside the room. 

There was a noise coming from the bed, a noise that Lamia knew was a sad noise, like someone was breathing but there were tears in the way. 

Being a bunny made climbing hard, so next Lamia was a raccoon. Raccoons had good paws that could hold onto anything, and Lamia climbed up the bed and onto the mattress. There was a small person there, curled up and making sad noises. 

Lamia couldn’t talk as a raccoon, so Lamia put on a person form, with long dark hair and a pretty white dress that swooshed whenever Lamia spun around, but Lamia couldn’t spin around when sitting down, and the small person was more important than swooshing. 

“Hello?” Lamia said. 

The small person jumped and turned around tried to crawl like a crab on their hands and feet. The person was not very good at being a crab, though, and fell off the bed. 

“Ow.”

Lamia became a mouse and skittered across the bed before being a person again. 

“Are you okay?” 

The small person looked up at her with big eyes. Their mouth opened but a tiny squeak came out instead of words. 

They weren’t a very good mouse, either. 

They sniffled a little. “Please don’t hurt me,” they said in a very small voice. 

“I wouldn’t hurt you. I just wanted to say hello,” Lamia replied. 

The small person’s face was all covered in different colors like green and purple and yellow and red. It wasn’t very pretty. Lamia could be colors that matched. 

“Who are you? Are you here instead of Mr. Priest?” 

Lamia draws in breath the way people always do when they’re scared. “I don’t like Mr. Priest.” 

The small person’s lip shook. “Did they take your mama and papa away, too?” 

Lamia knew some people had mamas and papas, but Lamia couldn’t remember before this place. 

“No.”

Lamia watched the small person’s shoulders fall. The small person looked so lonely and sad. 

“What’s your name?” Lamia asked. 

“Svlad.” 

Lamia smiled. “Project Svlad. That’s pretty.” Svlad’s name was fun to say. It sounded like a smile. 

Svlad shook their head. “No, I’m… They said I was Project Icarus, but my name is Svlad.” 

Lamia’s eyes got wide. “You can have a name  _ and  _ a project name?” 

“Of course--” 

The door opened and guards rushed in with Colonel Riggins. Svlad jumped up and tried to put themself between Lamia and the guards, but Colonel Riggins grabbed Svlad’s arm. 

“Svlad, get away from it.” 

“No--” Svlad struggled but couldn’t get away. “She’s nice. Please don’t make her go!” 

“It’s dangerous.” 

“Lamia,” another person said, and Lamia turned and saw Mr. Priest standing in the doorway. “Time to go home.” 

Lamia shuddered, but knew that going with Mr. Priest without arguing was the only way not to get hurt more. 

“Yes, Mr. Priest.” 

Mr. Priest dragged Lamia away, but Lamia heard Svlad begging for Lamia to be allowed to stay.

\--

“Do you want a name?” Svlad asked one day. 

It had been decided that they were allowed to spend time together when they both did well on tests. 

“I don’t need a name,” Lamia answered. 

“Why not?” 

Lamia shrugged. “Names are only for people and I’m not a person.” 

“You  _ are  _ a person.” 

Mr. Priest said that Lamia was a monster, and monsters weren’t people. When Lamia told Svlad this, Svlad started to cry. 

“You’re not a monster. Mr. Priest is a monster!” Svlad said, and hugged Lamia. 

Lamia hugged back, because hugs were always good. 

“You need a name,” Svald said. “Because you're a person and people have names.”

“How do you get a name?” Lamia asked. Lamia knew people names came from mamas and papas but Lamia didn't have those. 

“We could choose a name for you. And that way you know you'll like it!”

“How do we choose a name?” 

Svlad hummed. “Is there a name you like?” 

“Svlad is a nice name.” 

Giggling, Svlad smiled. “I guess we could have the same name, but it might be confusing. I know!” Svlad jumped off his bed and ran to the little shelf in his room. Lamia didn’t have shelves like Svlad did, but Svlad didn’t have a glass box like Lamia. 

Svlad returned with a book and opened it up to show the pages to Lamia. “This is a book about history and it has lots of names. Maybe we can find one in here!” 

Lamia nodded and looked over Svlad’s shoulder at the pages. 

\--

The pictures were the best part of the book. Svlad had tried to read the words to Lamia, but there were so many that it was confusing. 

One section of the book had lots of pictures all together, and Svlad read what the book said about each one. He paused after every name and asked if Lamia liked it, but Lamia didn’t like any of them. 

They came to a picture of a lady in a dark dress. The book said the picture was from five hundred years ago. 

“It’s one of the most famous paintings in the world,” Svlad told her. 

“What’s her name?” Lamia asked. 

“The Mona Lisa.” 

Lamia thought it was a pretty picture. It would be nice to be where the lady is, with lots of trees and water. 

“That could be your name,” Svlad said. “Mona.” 

“Mona,” Lamia repeated. It was easy to say. It didn’t sound like a smile like Svlad’s name, but it felt a little bit like laughing. “I like it.” 

Svlad grinned and wrapped his arms around Lamia. 

“Mona, then. You’re Mona.” 

Lamia-- _ Mona _ hugged Svlad back and smiled. 

\--

It was nice to have a name, to be a person. Lamia stayed a person for a whole day, thinking ‘My name is Mona. I am a person,’ over and over and over again. Sometimes Lamia would say it out loud, and the guards would shift like they didn’t like it, but Lamia liked it so it was okay. 

But Mr. Priest came in and said that Lamia’s name was Lamia, and that Lamia was a monster. Mr. Priest hurt Lamia until Lamia said “My name is Lamia. I am a monster.” 

\--

The next time Lamia got to see Svlad was a long time later. Lamia had decided being a pillow was better than being a person, especially when Mr. Priest got mad. 

“Hi, Mona,” Svlad said as he walked into his room. Lamia was being a bunny, because bunnies were soft and fast and it was hard for anyone to be mad at a bunny.

Svlad stroked a hand over Lamia’s head and laid down on his bed, leaving a space for Lamia to curl up against his chest. 

His face was colorful again, and his fingers didn’t quite stay still right. Lamia became a blanket and covered Svlad up in case he was cold. 

Svlad patted Lamia and his breath was like being a rocking chair, up and down and up and down. 

Something scraped against Lamia around where Svlad’s elbow was. It wasn’t the same kind of feeling as Svlad’s jumpsuit. 

Worried, Lamia became a person, even if it wasn’t as nice as being a blanket. 

“Are you okay? What’s on your arm?” 

Svlad was still shivering, but there was sweat on his forehead like he was too warm. 

He lifted his arm slowly, and Lamia saw that a bandage was taped to his arm. 

“They gave me medicine. Colonel Riggins said it would help me… do better on tests… but…”

Svlad gasped and curled up, but Lamia could see something was wrong. His shaking was worse, like the time Lamia snuck into a testing chamber and saw a man hooked up to a machine that sparkled with electricity and his body shook while he screamed.

Svlad wasn’t screaming at least, but it looked painful and scary. 

Lamia moved closer. 

“Svlad?” 

Svlad didn’t respond, and Lamia wanted to be a bug. Bugs didn’t get scared and could hide easily, but bugs couldn’t help Svlad. 

“It’s… It’s okay. I’m here.” It was hard to know what to say. Lamia wasn’t good at talking, Svlad was better at it, but Svlad couldn’t right now. 

Lamia sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. It didn’t seem like a good time for cuddling, but at least that way Svlad could feel that Lamia was there. 

The door burst open and guards rushed in, followed by some doctors, Colonel Riggins, and Mr. Priest. Colonel Riggins pushed Lamia away from Svlad as the doctors leaned over him and called out things that Lamia didn’t understand. Mr. Priest grabbed Lamia’s arm.

“Time to go home, Lamia.” 

Lamia knew that meant that the choice was going with him or being hurt, but Svlad was more important than not being hurt. 

“No! Svlad is hurt and needs me!” 

“Why would he need a monster with him?” 

Lamia looked over at Svlad. He was still shaking, and Lamia knew he wouldn’t want to be alone because he was always happy when they were together. 

“Because I’m his friend! He told me so! And I’m not a monster! And if you try to take me away I’m going to turn into a-a bear! Or a tiger!” 

“Stand down, Priest,” Colonel Riggins said. “We already have one medical emergency on our hands, we don’t need another.” 

Mr. Priest frowned but backed away from Lamia. The guards put their guns down too. 

“M-Mona?” 

Lamia turned and saw Svlad looking over. 

“Svlad! Are you okay?” 

He looked tired, but nodded, reaching out. Lamia took his hand. 

“You… You are my friend. You’re… my best friend, Mona.” 

\--

Being a person wasn’t easy. Sometimes it hurt, sometimes it was scary. But Lamia--Mona learned that it was good sometimes too, because being a person meant making friends. 


	30. Caregiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arnold said it would all just be a bad dream, but it wasn't.

It’s been three days. Francis has been avoiding Arnold for all of it because he knows Arnold is mad at him, even if Francis didn’t mean to do it. 

Arnold had said it would all be a bad dream, that they’d wake up and everything would be back to normal, but everything had still happened, their parents were still gone. 

They’ve mostly eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches since… then. Arnold makes all of them, because that’s how it’s always been. Francis gets them both milk. 

Francis dreams one night about cookies and they wake up to a plate of cookies on the table. Arnold refuses to touch them so Francis does too. 

That night, Arnold doesn’t have dinner, but he still makes Francis a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

“Can we play Wendimoor?” Francis asks after he’s eaten. They haven’t played in three days and he misses it, misses Arnold making up voices for the characters and fun new stories. 

“Fine,” Arnold answers. He doesn’t really look happy but Francis misses playing Wendimoor. 

They go to Francis’s room. The walls are still covered but it’s okay, Francis still remembers all the characters. 

Arnold plays the knights while Francis is the witch. It’s fun, but Arnold doesn’t do any of the voices. Francis thinks about asking why, but he doesn’t want to upset Arnold more. 

“We should go to bed,” Arnold says an hour later. 

Francis wants to argue, but Papi said that Francis had to listen to Arnold when they were alone.

“Can we play tomorrow?” Francis asks before Arnold leaves the room. “You can play the witch. Or the prince!” 

“Maybe,” Arnold replies. “Go to bed now.” 

“Okay.” 

“Good night,” Arnold says. 

“Love you.” 

Arnold pauses in the doorway, looking like a statue. “Love you too.” 

Francis picks Wakti up from where she was on the floor and hugs her before he climbs into bed. 

\--

When Francis wakes up, the front door is open. He goes to investigate and finds Arnold standing outside, talking to men in black suits.  


	31. Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The agency gets an unexpected visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my lovely commenters and everyone who has taken the time to read this, and special thanks to flightinflame for betaing my stories and helping me out when I got stuck (which happened rather frequently ^^;;;)

When the door opens, Todd is alone in the agency. Farah had offered to get lunch for them all, and Dirk and Mona offered to go with her (although Mona didn’t offer so much as she didn’t change from being Dirk’s jacket). 

Todd is grateful for the quiet. 

As much as he loves Dirk, the man brings chaos and energy with him everywhere he goes, and it can be tiring to try and keep up with him. 

Hearing the door, Todd resigns himself to having to end his relaxation now that there’s a customer, although that’s not Dirk’s fault any more than his holistic thing. 

The man at the door is older, with a salt-and-pepper moustache. 

He looks around for a moment like he’s searching for something. 

“Hello?” Todd says.

The man looks at him like he hadn’t noticed there was someone in the room with him. 

“I saw the sign outside and…” 

“If you’re looking for Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, this is it, although Dirk’s out at the moment. Do you have a case for us?” 

“When will he be back?” 

There’s nothing Todd likes more than customers who don’t listen, but he smiles anyway. “I don’t think he’ll be long.” He pulls out one of the forms that Dirk created for new clients, doing his best not to roll his eyes when he sees the question  _ Have you noticed an acceleration of strangeness in your life? Y/N _

Todd puts the form on a clipboard and hands it and a pen to the man. 

“If you just fill this out, I’m sure Dirk will be happy to help when he gets back. There are some chairs if you’d like to have a seat.” 

The man takes the clipboard and sits down in the waiting area, which is really just two green armchairs in a corner by a table. Todd pretends to work, but keeps most of his attention on the man as he dicks around on his computer. 

The man seems to read through the form, but doesn’t fill it out at all. 

Todd hears the garage attached to the agency open. It’s a relief to know that Dirk will be here deal with the man instead of Todd.

“We’re back!” Farah calls out. 

“Todd!” Dirk shouts. “Guess what they had!” 

Todd has no opportunity to guess because Dirk’s running into the agency, a shopping bag clutched in one hand. 

Dirk upends the bag onto Todd’s desk. 

“Look! Glitter sundae dishes,  _ rainbow  _ ice cream, edible glitter, rainbow sprinkles, strawberry whipped cream,  _ chocolate  _ whipped cream!” 

“I… don’t think most of this is safe to eat,” Todd replies. 

“It was in the food aisles, of course it was.” Dirk beams at him. “And Farah said we can have movie night tonight. Wait until you see the popcorn.” 

Todd stares at Dirk, fearing what kind of fucked up popcorn he bought. 

“Oh, hello,” Farah says as she walks in, looking at the waiting area. “Todd, you didn’t say we had a client.” 

“Well, he only just--” 

Dirk turns around to face the man and drops the jar of edible glitter he was holding. His jacket vanishes, a Panic Pete doll falling onto Todd’s desk. 

“Why are you here?” Dirk asks, backing away from the man. 

The man stands up. “I wanted to tell you how proud of you I am, Svlad.” 

Dirk makes a noise like he’s been punched. “That’s not--I’m not--” He gasps a few times but doesn’t speak anymore, instead continuing to edge away from the man. The Panic Pete doll turns into a mouse that runs to keep Dirk between it and the man, but when Dirk gets past the edge of Todd’s desk, it walks in circles. 

Todd holds out his hand and the mouse climbs onto his palm, becoming a gecko and climbing up the inside of Todd’s sleeve. 

“Who the hell are you?” Farah asks, a hand already on her gun. 

“I’m Colonel Scott Riggins. I’m the previous project manager of Blackwing.” He glances back at Dirk. “I don’t want to hurt you, Svlad--” 

“Don’t call him that,” Todd says. 

“Dirk, then. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to say that I’m proud of you. I always knew you could do this.” 

Dirk has his back to the wall now, his arms are wrapped around himself, his gaze lowered. 

“I can help you,” Riggins says. “I can help you use your abilities, strengthen them--” 

“I’m not psychic,” Dirk mumbles. 

“You can’t deny your powers, Dirk. Together, we can use them--”

“ _ You  _ can use them, you mean,” Dirk interrupts, although he flinches when he does. “ _ You  _ can test me and torture me and break me until I’m useful to you.” A sob tears itself from Dirk’s throat. 

“I’ve never wanted to harm you, you know that. I’ve always done what was best for you.” 

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Farah says. 

Riggins glares at her. “You have no right to talk to me like that. You don’t know everything I’ve done for him. I raised him like he was my own son.” He looks back at Dirk. “Remember that I’m the closest thing you have to a parent,  _ Svlad _ .” He spits the word like a curse. “And this is the thanks I get.” 

Farah pulls out her gun and aims it at Riggins. “If you don’t get out now, I will call the police.” 

“You have no  _ right-- _ ” 

“I own this building. I have every right.” Farah smiles brightly at him. “So get the hell off my property.” 

Scowling, Riggins looks at Dirk a final time. “If you ever decide you want to do something useful with your life, I’m sure you’ll be able to find me.” 

With that, he storms out of the agency. 

Dirk collapses on the floor and pulls his knees to his chest. 

“Todd, make sure Dirk’s okay. I’m going to make sure he leaves,” Farah says, and walks out behind Riggins. 

Todd kneels beside Dirk. “You alright?” he asks. 

Dirk’s cheeks are damp with tears, and he sniffles a little before he can speak. “I thought… I thought I was free of him, but…” 

“You are free. We won’t let them take you again.” 

Dirk shakes his head. “I’ll never be free.” 

Something tickles Todd’s wrist and the gecko jumps out of his sleeve. Mona changes into a duckling as she hits the ground. She chirps and waddles up to Dirk. 

Dirk picks her up and strokes a finger over her soft down. “You were very brave,” he says to the duckling. 

The duckling chirps again. 

“You were brave too,” Todd says to him, guessing that’s what Mona is chirping as well. “You stood up to him.” 

“I never did before,” Dirk replies. 

“But you did now.” 

The door opens again and Dirk cowers against Todd until Farah steps into view. 

“He’s gone. I made it clear that I don’t want him coming back.” 

She flexes her hand as she speaks, and Todd wonders how many times she hit Riggins. 

“I’m sorry, Farah,” Dirk says. “If I had known he would show up, I wouldn’t have--” 

“It’s okay, Dirk. It’s not your fault he came here.” 

“He came in looking for me after seeing my name emblazoned on a sign.” 

Todd wraps an arm around Dirk’s shoulder and Mona chirps a few times. 

“I’m sorry,” Dirk says to the duckling. “You’re right.” 

“Why don’t we have some ice cream?” Todd suggests. “It might help you feel better.” 

“You said the ingredients weren’t safe to eat.” 

“I’ll risk it, since I love you.” He kisses Dirk’s forehead and helps him off the floor. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on tumblr!](lourdesdeath.tumblr.com)


End file.
